The Disabled God

The Disabled God: Toward A Liberating Theology of Disability has been on my bookshelf and on my reading wish list for quite some time. Recently, while blog reading and following links to possibly related posts, I came across a tribute to the author, Nancy Eiesland Is Dead at 44; Wrote of a Disabled God. In discussing why she hoped she would be disabled in heaven, she is recorded as saying that without her disability she would be, "absolutely unknown to myself and perhaps to God." Her answer intrigued me. I moved this book, once buried under a stack of books I wanted to read some day, closer to the top of the stack.

Before I begin discussing the book itself, since this is a book blog, here is what the author believed about books:

Beginning during many long hospital stays in my childhood, I long cherished the mistaken notion that books were for escape. Through the years, educators have changed my mind. Books should inspire action; good books may even help us live better lives, individually and collectively.

I think there is a place for books that are brain candy. There are times I cannot read and focus on books that require too much thinking. But, there is also a place for books that inspire action and change the way we think. The Disabled God is not brain candy! The book starts with a review of literature related to disability and disability rights in society in general. Then, as if we needed to be told, relates how the church has mirrored society. The universal church's response to the person with a disability has often been less than adequate. Ms. Eiesland then discusses the theological obstacles to full inclusion and describes a new Christology in which the resurrected Christ is understood as disabled. Finally, using the Eucharist, Ms. Eiesland discusses how church practices must change if the church is to include, in a meaningful way, people with disabilities in the faith community.

People with disabilities, particularly children born with disabilities, do not fit neatly into the church's theology. It is hard to embrace a omnipotent, loving God who would allow human suffering. Our habit of twisting individual passages or even a single verse and forcing a theology of disability has resulted in three distorted theological views. The first one is that disability is a sign of sin. This understanding blames the individual (or his or her parents) for their disability. The second is that disability is almost a gift to those who are the most virtuous, most faithful and can be counted on to suffer well. Finally, that the disabled are an opportunity for segregationist almsgiving. The author describes these theological positions as dangerous in terms of inclusion.

Throughout the Old Testament, people with disabilities are spoken of as unclean. They were not allowed to serve as priests or enter the temple. In the New Testament, Jesus spoke in parables teaching his disciples spiritual truths by using examples from the physical world. In the New Testament the blind, deaf and lame portray the common experience of spiritual hardness of heart, moral failings and wickedness; we are all unclean. Ms. Eiesland points out that we must not use Scripture as an invitation to deny the real differences and challenges the person with a disability encounters as they live their life.

While all people do experience sin, not all people face architectural segregation and discrimination on the basis of disability."(page 85)

Truthfully, my mind mentally kicked and shied away from much of the book's theology. I couldn't embrace the author's thesis that God is disabled. While humans are embodied spirits, I do not think that the Bible supports that God is a corporeal being. The physical world is created, finite and limited. The God of the Bible is eternal, infinite and limitless. Christ taught that God is Spirit. (John 4:24) But, the author never talks about God in these terms. When she speaks of a disabled God, she is speaking of Christ.

"At the resurrection, the disciples understood the person of Jesus for who he really was. Only through the lens of resurrection could they understand the meaning and significance of the life of Jesus on earth. In the resurrected Jesus Christ, they saw not the suffering servant for whom the last and most important word was tragedy and sin, but the disabled God who embodied both impaired hands and feet and pierced side and the imago Dei." (page 99)

I don't want to sound like I am accusing the author of heresy. Her thoughts on God were what helped her make sense of a difficult earthly life. But, I didn't feel the concept of God described in this book incorporates the fullness of God. I understand Christ to be my Messiah, Emmanuel, God with us. However, an orthodox view of God must certainly embrace God as Father and Spirit too. Additionally, I do not believe the author supported her assumption that the resurrected Christ was disabled. Earlier in the book, in a section called "Coming To Terms," Ms. Eiesland conceptually defined the words "impairment" and "disability." There are subtle but important distinctions in how these terms are used. An impairment is a abnormality in the body's physiologic form or function. Disability occur when the impairment results in an inability to perform a task or activity considered necessary. While I can agree that nail prints in the hands and feet and a pierced side could be described as physical impairments, nothing in the gospels indicate that these physical impairments disabled Christ. Christ didn't crawl out of the grave needing assistance with his activities of daily living.

Still, there were two things that the author said that I tend to agree with. First, "Resurrection is not about the negation or erasure of our disabled bodies in hopes of perfect images, untouched by physical disability; rather Christ's resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes, difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei." (page 107) The Bible records that Jesus was raised in the same body he died in. This is a relatively new understanding for me. I used to think my daughter, born with fetal alcohol syndrome, would be healed in the resurrection. I no longer believe that is true. In Don't Mourn for Us by Jim Sinclair, an autistic man, argues:

Autism isn't something a person has, or a "shell" that a person is trapped inside. There's no normal child hidden behind the autism. Autism is a way of being. It is pervasive; it colors every experience, every sensation, perception, thought, emotion, and encounter, every aspect of existence. It is not possible to separate the autism from the person--and if it were possible, the person you'd have left would not be the same person you started with.

FASD is pervasive. God cannot separate FASD from my daughter and still have the same person she is today. She would think and relate to God differently.

Also, I significantly agree with the author's assertion that the church is disabled.

Christ's body, the church, is broken, marked by sin, divided by disputes, and exceptional in its exclusivity.

Last, her discussion on the Eucharist was eye opening. My husband's family is Lutheran. I have attended several Lutheran services where I watched the entire congregation walk to the front of the sanctuary. Those people in attendance who couldn't walk didn't have to go forward. After the rest of the congregation had been served the sacraments, the person serving the Eucharist would bring the sacraments to those who hadn't been able to participate "normally."

"Hence the Eucharist was transformed for me from a corporate to a solitary experience; from a sacralization of Christ's broken body to a stigmatization of my disable body."

And, I never gave it a second thought, until now.