JUDY VALENTE: This group of teenagers is being entertained by some of the residents of a large home for the mentally and physically challenged. The performers have Down's syndrome. They function at a third-grade level.
Unidentified GIRL: It was touching. I wanted to cry, knowing they're mentally challenged.
VALENTE: The place is called Misericordia -- Latin for "heart of mercy." Most of the residents can't perform like this. Some of them can barely move.
Unidentified THERAPIST: Turn the can crusher on for me, David.
VALENTE: Misericordia tries to provide dignity, even for the most severely disabled. In this recycling program, David Nelson touches a large button, activating a machine that crushes a can and drops it into a bin. This is David's job.Unidentified THERAPIST: He gets to use his hands and his eyesight, and the sound. It's a benefit to him because he gets enjoyment out of working. And it's like when we go out to work and we enjoy our job. He enjoys his job.
VALENTE: While states have largely taken over the funding of programs for people with special needs, it still falls to religious organizations to care for many of society's most vulnerable people.
Sr. MARY CATHERINE MCDONAGH (Sisters of Mercy, Misericordia): We're helping people pay attention to a group that deserves not to live in a back room somewhere, but to have a quality of life. VALENTE: The Sisters of Mercy run Misericordia, which accepts both Catholics and non-Catholics. For the lay staff and volunteers, there is one important requirement.
Sr. ROSEMARY CONNELLY (General Manager, Misericordia): We want them to be people of compassion. We don't want them to be feeling sorry for our children and adults. We want them to believe in our children and adults, that they not only have a right to life, but one worth living. VALENTE: That means having programs for them, because Misericordia has more than 500 residents functioning at many different levels. This was once an orphanage. When it closed in 1976, the Chicago archdiocese turned it over to the Sisters of Mercy to care for people with disabilities. Sister Rosemary wanted to make sure it would not become a warehouse for the unwanted.
Sr. CONNELLY: I was determined that they were going to get out of bed. So I called hospitals and I called universities and I asked for help. I told them that we have all these little children and we have no program. So the universities and the hospital said, "You create the programs and we'll come to you."
VALENTE: The residents aren't all children. Some have spent most of their lives here.
Sr. CONNELLY: They would never again spend their whole days in bed. You'll see every program imaginable. And you'll see it done creatively, lovingly, and generously. VALENTE: Misericordia gets $30 million a year from the state of Illinois. But it raises another $10 million from the Chicago community. That support -- financial and political -- has made the difference.
Sr. CONNELLY: Too many places are too ready to say, "The state doesn't pay for it so we don't do it." Maybe that's one difference between Misericordia and other places. We say, "The state doesn't do it, but we'll do it, and we'll do it by reaching out to people and asking for their help." And I've never been refused.
VALENTE: With the help of corporate sponsors, the annual one-day outdoor festival, held on the Misericordia grounds, raised $800,000 last year. There are also candy days, golf outings, and other events. The money helps to support Misericordia's bakery and its restaurant. Both operate at a deficit, but they give the higher-functioning residents a place to work. Sr. CONNELLY: They are loved, they are cared for, they are challenged as much as they can be challenged.
Sr. MCDONAGH: Meg is actually laying on her stomach right now on this equipment to help her get a chance to practice raising her head and stretching her arms. It gives her a chance at exercise. She's lifting her head because she's interested in what's going on, and she loves seeing people.
Sr. CONNELLY: Working at Misericordia is extremely difficult. It is work that demands complete unselfishness.
VALENTE: This is Terry Morrissey. He was born without fingers or toes, and with an elongated head. His job, every day, is to cut newspaper into thin strips. Others will process the paper, and make it into papier-mache masks. Terry says he was "born lucky."
Sr. CONNELLY: One time a doctor came in. We walked around and he said, "You spend a lot of money on these programs?" I said, "Yes, we do." He said, "Do you think these kids are going to go out and be productive?" I said, "Doctor, if they die tomorrow, but today was worth living, I think it justifies what we're doing here today."
Sr. CONNELLY: I do believe the children and adults generally have a very, very rich faith life. I don't think many of them ask, "Why am I a person with mental disabilities?" They know, somehow, this life is but a brief moment in time, and the best is yet to come. They know that for many happenings in life there are no answers. But there are answering people. People who care about them, who love them, who respond to them.
JULIE HARRINGTON: I love it!
Sr. CONNELLY: The reality is that we are not the future. And it's a hard reality because religious sisters have made a wonderful contribution, not only to the Church but to human services. We have had the freedom to be available, completely, because we don't have the pressure of a family. 
