What Is the Mass?
The Mass is, gathered around Jesus and in Him, the family supper of God's children in the Father's house. With Jesus and in Him, we offer ourselves—together with our joys and our sorrows—to this God our Father. This offering is something sacred: a "sacrifice" lived in filial and fraternal love.
Why should people with intellectual disabilities have no place at this table? Which of us would not welcome a disabled child or cousin to our own table? Do they have nothing to offer to Christ's offering—which is also our offering—no joy, no suffering, no love to bring? Then why do we find them so often, in fact, kept far from the Eucharist, from the Mass?
The Obstacles
Rarely do the obstacles come from the person with a disability. If he does not explicitly express the desire to attend Mass, it is rare that he refuses it. If anything, it happens more often than we think that he asks to go, to receive communion, and asks with eagerness and persistence—even going alone.
Sometimes the obstacles come from parents who fear they will cause a disturbance and feel uncomfortable. One mother writes: "I'm a bit afraid to go to Mass because sometimes his behavior seems strange to me, and my sense of propriety suffers for it."
The obstacles more often come from the parish community itself, sometimes from the clergy—not out of opposition so much as from lack of understanding and active interest.
Parents observe:
Apart from a few priests who have kept the treasure of tenderness for the smallest among us, we have the impression of total incomprehension about what an intellectually disabled person is, about the richness that can be in him…. It seems our children are classified as a category you don't engage with, because it serves no purpose.
And again:
The parish has never done anything to draw close to these young people, and my son has never felt any call from that direction.
And finally:
My pastor thinks all of this is useless—just to please me, the mother.
What Can We Do?
As for us, on the level of fundamental principle, we have tried to apply the rule that every disabled person—child, adolescent, or adult—who shows a genuine desire to participate in the Mass should not be turned away. We would add that, since the Mass is a supper, participation seems to us to require (and we must work toward this soon) the possibility of receiving communion. In fact, it follows logically that a person with intellectual disability will struggle to be at Mass without being able to approach the Table alongside those around him.
"But"—people often say—"does he understand?" We answer first: "Who understands?"
The Curé of Ars declared: "The Mass is so great that if a priest truly grasped what he was doing when he celebrated it, he would die from the knowledge."
Who among us dares claim to have understood the Eucharistic mystery? Let us remember that the Church asks only one thing regarding understanding: that a distinction be made between Eucharistic bread and ordinary bread. Most people with intellectual disability are capable of grasping, even if dimly, that this is about uniting themselves with Jesus, the bread of God, in love for the Father and for our brothers and sisters. And their desire to receive Him will show itself more through their bearing than through words—which many of them are incapable of using.
When and how often is their participation in Mass possible?
It is the disabled person himself who should be able to decide, especially as an adolescent. Admittedly, it may be difficult to bring a severely disabled person to Mass every Sunday. One may be able to; another may not; another may prefer to go during the week; another may manage only once a month. Every case is unique. What matters is awakening the desire and ensuring that this participation in the Mass remains for each person a sign of profound joy, linked to a luminous memory.
At times, it may be necessary to help the person with intellectual disability understand that it is not only his desire that counts—nor even that of his parents—but also and above all the "desire of God," which may "long for him."
Is there reason to give communion to a person with intellectual disability or admit him to Mass without any preparation?
That would be another way of underestimating him. He has a right to preparation, adapted to his capacities and mindful of his specific difficulties.
The real danger is that a person with intellectual disability remains passive at Mass, comes and simply waits for it to end, grows restless from fatigue and lack of interest, and ends up feeling disgust.
It is true that, despite the changes made, today's Mass liturgy is not much more understandable to people with intellectual disabilities—sometimes not even to those without disabilities—than the Latin of the past was. We hope that simpler, more accessible language can be found while remaining faithful to what is essential.
The Disabled Person
What matters is that the person with intellectual disability have the opportunity to participate actively in the Eucharistic celebration. And they can do this. Certainly they may sense that there is something they do not understand, but at the same time they feel that the Mass concerns them and speaks to them.
In this participation they both receive and give.
They receive: by opening themselves deeply to the sacred mystery that is the Mass.
They give: through their presence, their attention, their singing, a meaningful gesture, a symbolic act done, as far as possible, on their own initiative, in their own way.
What will they bring to offer with Jesus?
First of all, themselves. But also something from God's creation that has been given to us, something they love. It might be a gesture, simple words, a drawing made with care, a flower, a stone they have picked up and found beautiful.
A person with intellectual disability can put his whole self into this simple offering. Receiving God's gift, this response through self-giving and through what symbolizes it, will culminate in true Eucharistic communion. But the entire Mass is communion with the love of God and our brothers and sisters. The sign of peace, too—or a gesture of peace (shaking hands, an embrace, another sign of friendship)—can be highlighted and help them experience the Mass authentically.
The Community
But we know well that the attitude of the community plays a leading role. We would say it must be a community that accepts, welcomes, is active, and prays.
That accepts: tolerates the presence of a person with intellectual disability and his behavior.
That welcomes: gradually, the community must come to be glad of this presence; must consider disabled people welcome; must be willing to engage with them as much as possible, to make them feel received, befriended. Why could it not be the disabled person himself who helps people as they leave church to get to know one another? Perhaps it is he who can become a builder of unity among people who do not know each other.
That is active. It is very important that the community be glad to be at Mass, that it manifest this inner joy, that all its members show the desire that this joy be for everyone. The person with intellectual disability will express his joy more fully than anyone else, and will do so with more authenticity than others.
That prays, finally. The person with disability must be sustained and as it were carried by the prayer of all. But here too, in his own way, he will help us pray—if we do not let ourselves be unsettled by his way of being.
One more note: it is often thought that people with intellectual disabilities need a very short Mass; some have even spoken of a "mini Mass." This seems to me a mistake.
On the contrary, a person with intellectual disability needs time to "attune" himself. A "low" Mass, said hastily, serves him less well than a solemn Mass celebrated properly, with all its elements (solemnity, ritual, singing). What a pity when we end up stripping away all the gestures and postures of the Mass! When in fact we need not only the bodily expression of the celebrant but of the entire assembly.
These gestures must certainly be gestures of prayer. But we do not pray only with our mouths; we pray with our whole bodies. People with intellectual disabilities will feel all the more at home participating in the celebration, even actively shaping it, when we engage ourselves from head to foot.
The Clergy
It will be the clergy, then, through their attitude, who will shape that of the community. Yet we must recognize that if a priest has never had the experience of a person with intellectual disability in his family or among his relatives, he will feel somewhat lost, at least at first contact, if he has not been prepared for such an encounter. Experience shows that afterward it is often the priest himself who is most grateful and most enriched by this encounter and by the faithful friendship of the person with intellectual disability. And who knows—perhaps he will find in it the chance to purify and strengthen his own faith as he reconsiders his own way of approaching God.
The Parents
As for parents, we hope they will find the strength to overcome their respect for conventional propriety—understandable as it is—or simply their shyness and fear of being intrusive. By daring, they render a service. One parent writes of his son: "He must bear witness to the world of those with intellectual disabilities, must open the way for those more troubled than himself, so that the Christian people become accustomed to bearing with and loving disabled people despite the discomfort that some of them may cause during the Eucharistic celebration."
And parents must be willing to accept, at least at first, the parish community's lapses in behavior, its misguided attitudes, its tactless words. Should not the Eucharistic assembly be the place par excellence for unconditional acceptance of the other, and also for his education in love?
It may also be that in extreme cases a young person who is very agitated and troubled will more easily find his place in a smaller, more intimate Eucharistic celebration.
What of Mass on television?
We think a person with intellectual disability will scarcely imagine it to be a real Mass. He will find it impossible through this medium to make contact with the community and with God himself. He may be calm, perhaps, but rarely active and engaged. And he can receive communion only through desire.
In conclusion, we believe that everything possible must be done so that a disabled person can participate in the Mass, as part of the entire worshipping community. Of course, if we believe that for a person with severe intellectual disability actual participation is entirely impossible, we must remember that there is a communion of desire. The desire—confused though it may be—that a person with intellectual disability can have surely has profound value in God's eyes. And even more so the desire of the parents. One father writes: "My desire is to help my son grow in faith, respecting his rhythm and his way of expressing himself, accepting too that I be questioned by faith itself."
From this perspective, for those with intellectual disabilities who have not yet been able to participate in the Eucharist, and perhaps never will, and for their families as well, life itself can be a Mass.
From a conversation by Father Henri Bissonier, held in France with L'Office Chrétien des Inadaptés (O.C.I.)