I was going through some files and I came across this story from a volunteer who has been affiliated with the Interfaith Disability Network for quite a while now. Sometimes stories tell the story better than all of the rhetoric about inclusion, and justice can…

Yesterday I drove over to Carrollton to attend the Funeral Mass for a woman who had been born with Down Syndrome.

As I neared the church I noticed that intersecting streets were being blocked by police department personnel. When I actually got to the church, it was already nearly full. I had to park behind the church. Walking around the church building to the front, I watched as the hearse and family cars arrived. The city had provided a full funeral procession with police riding motorcycles front and back. Waiting at the front door were current and previous pastors. The thought actually crossed my mind that I might be at the wrong funeral.

However, I found the church full of her friends, acquaintances, and coworkers. One reason they were so numerous was because she had been an active member of the parish hospitality ministry. She had also been a greeter at the supermarket where she worked. It had taken her nearly a year to die, and there were several members of the medical profession and hospital staff attending as well.

The other reason was because she treated all those she encountered with a special kind of cordiality. This cordiality was honest. It was not judgmental. Really, it was a kind of loving. The priest said she had been a reflection of God’s love. That she had been specifically sent as a great teacher for the rest of us about the nature of love.

The celebrant took that passage about love they so often read at weddings. He took each one of those descriptions (“Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous,” etc.), and he tied it to an event or “snapshot” in this woman’s life that described her loving nature.

Although obviously well prepared, he was doing all this without notes; just standing there holding the Bible open to First Corinthians. Finally, the beauty of what he was telling caught up with even him. He said: “I have to stop talking now, before I start to cry.” And he sat down.

Mark, all this began years ago when a previous pastor insisted that she be included in the hospitality ministry of that parish. It was from there that she developed the skills that got her the jobs she held. It was from there that she earned such profound respect from that entire community.

Mark, this event is so exemplary as to what IDN is all about. It also refreshed the vocational meaning of my life. And yes, I disgraced myself by openly weeping during Mass all the while sitting in the middle of a bunch Protestants.

Do you have a story to share about why inclusion matters?