The Labourers must be diverse - a disability theology sermon for Trinity 3C

Luke 10.1-11, 16-20

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God our strength and redeemer.

In our gospel reading, Jesus says ‘whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you… say “even the dust of your town that clings to our feet we wipe off in protest against you.”’  I used to work in disability support in a university: my colleagues would often say to me ‘we like the sound of your God, but we can’t get on with your church, it is so discriminatory’.  Sadly, this is often true. 

Many disabled people feel discriminated against by the church due to lack of access or unwelcoming and discriminatory attitudes. Many have heard things such as ‘if you had more faith, you would be cured’ or encountered the attitude that disabled people need things done for us rather than having gifts to give. 

You may have heard of a recent event where a father and his autistic son went to evensong in King’s College chapel in Cambridge but were asked to leave as the son made a noise during the service.  Fortunately, in this case, they didn’t wipe the dust of the soles of their feet and turn away from the church, although that could seem justified. Instead, the boy’s father sent a letter to the Dean of Chapel which resulted in him apologising and inviting them in to work out how the chapel could do better in its welcome in future.

So how could we, as an inclusive church do better and ensure that we are welcoming, that people feel that they can belong here? I think there are several clues in this gospel passage.

There’s a lot in this passage about hospitality: Jesus is sending out the seventy to be guests of the local people.  What is the status of a guest?  Guests come where they are invited, not by right; guests accept what is offered – we receive from those we’ve come to. 

Jesus tells the disciples to ‘stay in one place’ in each town.  Why does he do this? Wouldn’t it be better to meet more people- spread the message further?  I think that it is so that the disciples can build up a relationship with their hosts, so that they can listen and begin to build trust, to find out what gifts their hosts have which they can join in with.

So what does this mean for us, and specifically for our welcome of disabled people? We need to learn how to be good guests as well as hosts.   What would happen if we slowed down and paid attention to the people around us: to accept what is offered to us, which might take a while to come to light; to build trust? 

How can we expect people to be open to God if we’re not open to them and their experience?  If we don’t make our building more accessible ‘because no one who uses a wheelchair comes in’, or we say that a person can’t stay in worship because they shout out during the prayers, we are missing some of the diversity of gifts offered by the variety of people made in the image of God.

If we want to build of God’s Kingdom of peace, we need to take part in a co-production with God and with other people. If its ‘us’ doing things for ‘them’, does that further God’s kingdom where barriers are broken down, and all can belong in God’s love?   Does it build the peace – shalom which is not just a lack of war, but the growth of love, reconciliation, mercy and justice?  I would argue it does not, we need to be working with a diversity of people to realise God’s kingdom – we need to be open to the surprising shapes which the image of God takes, and not to reject those who might bring something of God because the shape or medium of that message is different to we expected.

Jesus instructs the seventy to ‘cure the sick’, or in other translations to ‘heal the sick’.  This is a phrase which makes me uncomfortable.  In common with many disabled people, I have had people come up to me and pray for my healing, without my consent.  By healing, they usually mean the physical cure of my disability.  When this doesn’t happen, they see it as a result of lack of faith or of sin on my part.  I acknowledge that I often sin and that mars my relationship with God and other people, but I don’t see it as the reason why I’m not cured of my disability. 

There’s a distinction we need to draw between physical cure and healing.  Healing is making someone or something more whole – becoming closer to the peace of Christ’s kingdom, and I think the following phrase: ‘the Kingdom of God has come near to you’ is important here. 

What happens when the Kingdom of God draws near?  What is the Kingdom of God like?  Jesus says he comes to bring life in all its fullness, and talks about justice, peace and love.  So how does this relate to healing?  If we take healing to be becoming as whole as we possibly can be in this world: enabling us to draw as close as possible to God and God’s kingdom, I think it’s probable that we all need healing to help us to draw as close to God as possible. 

When Jesus heals people, he first asks them what they want – he listens, not assuming that he already knows.  Then his healing restores people to their community: in his times, that often included a physical cure as there weren’t the systems which enabled people to be fully involved in society whilst having an impairment.  Now, however, I, and many people with disabilities see disability as something of a gift: it’s a part of how God made us, and has provided us with gifts and opportunities we would not have otherwise had.  We must also remember that we follow a disabled Christ: when Jesus was resurrected, he retained the wounds of his crucifixion in his transformed body. 

A few years ago, I went to the OuterSpace Eucharist for LGBT folks at the Greenbelt festival.  We sang ‘I the Lord of sea and sky’. There was an error in the service sheet which said ‘I will send the poor and lame’ instead of, ‘I will tend the poor and lame’, but I didn’t notice at first as it seemed so natural to me.  Ever since, I’ve thought it a strangely appropriate mistyping. 

Jesus says to the seventy ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest’. 

When I first read this reading, my initial thought was of those who go out into the fields with scythes and actually cut down the grain, but on further reflection it occurred to me that I was missing a large proportion of the harvest labourers, without whom the harvest would fail.

There is, in fact, a diversity of labourers needed to reap the harvest: in order to cut the grain, scythes are needed so there need to be blacksmiths and woodworkers who make and sharpen the tools.  People are needed to cook food and bring drink to refresh the field labourers.  There’s the person with the weather lore who knows when its going to be right for harvesting; those who plan the harvesting so that its done efficiently and nothing is wasted; those who go behind and glean anything that is missed and so on.  If we’re going to work for the harvest of God’s kingdom of love and peace, where are the gaps in our team of labourers: who are we missing or excluding? 

Are we assuming that disabled people can’t be labourers in the harvest because they don’t look like our picture of the ‘harvest labourer’: able bodied, fit, energetic, getting up and doing.  Perhaps because of an impairment to speech, mobility, learning etc?  Perhaps we need to be thinking more broadly about our picture of the harvest-there are a diversity of jobs which need doing and therefore a diversity of people needed.  As St Paul says, ‘the body of Christ has many members’ and if the whole body were an ear, how would it smell, or a foot, how would it hear?

Perhaps we need to be listening and looking with God’s eyes at the gifts given to each in different shapes and guises.  For example, one of the best sermons I have ever heard, was delivered at Greenbelt by a fourteen year old who is a non verbal, wheelchair user, speaking through a voice synthesiser.  

Until I moved from High Wycombe, last summer, I had the privilege of working as a chaplain in a nursing home.  I learnt a huge amount from the residents, who often felt isolated and useless, about God.  For example there a lady who was no longer able to speak by the time I met her and had lived most of her life in institutions due to severe and multiple disabilities but was always faithful to God and showed a huge capacity for joy and hospitality; every week when I went to ask who wanted to come to worship, she would enthusiastically put her hands together in a praying motion.  There were the residents who cared deeply for each other every day: one helping the other with her deep confusion due to dementia or the resident who cheered all the staff up by caring about and encouraging us.  When we ignore those with a disability, we ignore part of the body of Christ – we become less whole so let us celebrate the gifts that God brings in the whole diversity of God’s people.

I’d like to end with a poem I wrote about experiencing signed Deaf worship, at Greenbelt, it is called ‘Eyes Wide Open’ as Deaf people pray with their eyes open:

Eyes wide open

To the glory of the Lord

Shining in person, grass and

Unexpected grasshopper

Neatly folded on shoe

Eyes wide open

To signs

Of worship and praise

Expressing God’s love through

The whole body.

Eyes wide open

To catch a glimpse

Of Joy as the inexpressible

Is touched upon

Without words. Beyond words.

Eyes wide open

To the Stranger

And the Stranger

Signing ‘I love you’

One handed

The other hand to

Embrace the Other.

Eyes wide open

To see beneath the skin

Through the barriers

Erected by fear and hate

To the lovely core within

Eyes wide open

To the complete

And utter Joy

Of the Dance and signs

Of life.

Book Review: Disability: The Inclusive Church Resource

Disability: The Inclusive Church Resource

Theology by John M. Hull

Darton Longman and Todd, 2014

ISBN-13: 978 0 232 53065 0

Link to Publisher's Website

This handy little book, which is in a small format and only 96 pages long is the first in a series of resource books being published under the aegis of Inclusive Church. The book is divided into sections: firstly an Introduction by Clare Herbert, who works with Inclusive Church in the Disability field; secondly: a section called 'Experience' giving reflections/stories from people with disabilities associated with churches; thirdly a theology of disability by John M. Hull and fourthly a short resources section.  A similar format will be maintained throughout the series of books.

Clare Herbert's introduction focuses on the challenges of inclusion-the need to take time to understand the various and individual needs and gifts of each person and their life as a whole, not solely that part of it which interacts with church as an institution.  She calls for us all to slow down and learn to listen to others about disability, but also about other areas of inclusion which concern the church.  She also raises the point that inclusion of people with disabilities is about wider issues than just ramps and large print service sheets: it needs to be about the whole person.  Clare's introduction sets the tone for the book and it is a high tone which I think is worth listening to for the sake of including everyone not just disabled people.

In the 'Experience' section: five people with disabilities and one carer describe their experiences interacting with church. They are a mixture of lay and ordained voices. These are powerful stories and contain at least as much theology as the explicitly theological section which follows them.  All of them resonate with me in one way or another, but that which resonated with me most was that of Rachel.  She says:

"I hope that what I represent as a disabled priest will teach the church, and indeed people in general, that inclusiveness is about much more than the physical environment. Disability is not something to be 'allowed for' or excused but something to be truly embraced. I say this not as part of some sort of secular equality agenda but because each person who crosses the threshold of the church, disabled or not, is made in the image of God and is to be regarded as precious for that reason. It is the role of the church, first and foremost, to welcome people by virtue of their unique humanity, whoever they are, not because you might believe that as a disabled person I especially need to be 'looked after'. However unwittingly, if we are not careful, such all-encompassing kindness can become oppressive.  We must allow disabled people to grow within the church, to become the people God has intended them to be; that includes allowing them the room to question, to make mistakes, to be angry, to be dismissive, in common with their brothers and sisters.  I believe that if disabled people are allowed to truly flourish  in the service of the church, in whatever capacity, then the effect would be transformative. ... In all the areas in which it operates, the Inclusive Church agenda should be recognised as being about acknowledging the fullness of God at work in all people, whatever their circumstances."

In his theology of disability, John Hull first asks where we would find Disability Theology on a theological map.  He proposes that the questions raised by disability interact with all branches of theology, but that there is also a specific genre of disability theology which is looking at championing the needs and gifts of disabled people and an area of frontier theology where theologians seek to interpret the experience of disabled people through theology so as to break down the barriers between disabled and non-disabled people.

John Hull then goes on to talk about how language is used in terms of disability in both the Bible and everyday life: language itself can be disabling, particularly due to the additional cultural meanings associated with it. The terms 'blind' and 'deaf' are particularly emotive.  He says that we need to reflect on the context of Biblical passages in terms of disability as well as other issues (e.g. feminism) when determining the authority and interpretation of scripture.

John Hull then goes on to talk about how views of disability can critically acclaim and broaden our view of theology: for example celebrating difference in creation and affirming the counter cultural nature of the gospel in being sceptical of the culture of normality which is prevalent in today's culture.

Finally, John talks about how disabled people can be seen as good news for the church and Christianity as good news for disabled people, not by being associated with miraculous healing, but by helping the world to realise Christ's community of inclusive love and by bringing marginalised groups into all areas of the church as full members both of congregations and in ministry/leadership roles.

John's theology can be a little harder to unpack than some of the earlier sections of the book, but it provides an excellent theological foundation on which to build a more inclusive church.

The final section of the book is a resources section: the beginning of the section give some suggestions for how churches may wish to approach becoming more inclusive to disabled people, which I think are excellent.  The range of organisations and resources quoted are also a good selection.

All in all, this is an excellent short introduction to an inclusive theology of disability with many practical points which would be useful to churches.  It is a book which would be accessible for a wide readership and yet provide much food for further thought and action. Being a short book, it would also be suitable for those with limited time but who want to become more inclusive.  I heartily recommend it to all.

#adventbookclub Walking Backwards to Christmas: Anna part I

Along with various twitter friends, I'm taking part in the #adventbookclub organised by  Pam Webster, we're reading Stephen Cottrell's Walking Backwards to Christmas. Here's my first post:

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage,  then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

As I was reading this, I remembered a recent conversation with my vicar, whose name is Anna, where she commented that it is her destiny to turn into her Biblical namesake - the batty old lady who is always hanging around the church.  I couldn't comment about the 'batty' bit, but was thinking that being the person who is always hanging around the church doesn't seem to be a bad thing. But do we listen to the wisdom which these elders have acquired by hanging around the church, in the presence of God, for years?  There seems a lot we could gain by paying attention to that openness.

This seems to connect with the definition of a prophet: I wondered if a prophet is someone who has spent so much time waiting and watching before God's face that she can see and discern things which others cannot.  Hence, Anna recognises the Holy Family among the whole throng of people around the Temple, and is able to praise God for God's revelation in Jesus where others didn't see it.

At the beginning of Advent, this reminds me to spend time opening myself to God, hanging around in God's temple, just being among the busyness, and also to remember to look for God given wisdom - prophesy if you like - in unexpected places.






 

 

Eyes Wide Open

This is a belated post for National Poetry Day which was yesterday (2nd October).  I thought I would post a poem I wrote after attending Deaf Worship at the Greenbelt Festival a few years ago.  It was conducted in British Sign Language with translation for the signing impaired, and the theme was awareness: having eyes wide open to God. This is particularly important in the context of D/deaf worship in community where participants need to have their eyes open in order to lipread or watch the sign language of others, but I think it has something to say to all of us as a way of looking for God in the world.

Eyes wide open

Eyes wide open

To the glory of the Lord

Shining in person, grass and

Unexpected grasshopper

Neatly folded on shoe

Eyes wide open

To signs

Of worship and praise.

Expressing God's love through 

The whole body.

Eyes wide open

To catch a Glimpse

Of joy as the inexpressible

Is touched upon

Without Words. Beyond words

Eyes wide open

To the Stranger

And the Stranger 

Signing 'I love you'

One handed

The other hand to

Embrace the Other.

Eyes wide open

To see beneath the skin

Through the barriers

Erected by fear and hate

To the lovely core within

Eyes wide open

To the complete

And utter Joy

Of the dance and signs 

Of life.

'I love you' (American Sign Language) From:
http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/topics/i_love_you.htm

"I have called you by name, you are mine...

... when you pass through the waters I will be with you; 

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; 

when you walk through fire you  will not be burned

and the flame will not consume you"

So says the Lord in Isaiah 43: in many ways it is a simple but profound  message and one which brings much comfort. However, along with many others I think, I can find it difficult to take in this immense faithfulness of  God's love, especially when life feels hard even when those hardships are relatively minor. One of the things which helps me to remember God's love and faithfulness is being communicated by name as happened at both celebrations of the eucharist during the weekend I mentioned in my previous post On the Importance of the Eucharist . 

This, and a fabulous blog post by Claire, one of the priests who administered communion, started me thinking about how important being reminded personally of God's love in this way can be.  Communicating people by name can be a tricky business; it could feel exclusive in many situations such as in a 'normal' parish where visitors, or even those with less easily remembered names, could feel excluded if not given communion by name. They could be given the impression that God's love is only for the favoured few who are given communion by name and are 'first class Christians' so to speak. However, I think that in particular situations giving and receiving communion by name can be an important expression of God's particular love for and relationship with each person. 

This can be a particularly powerful experience for those of us who find it difficult to accept and believe at the deepest levels that 'God loves me' and 'God is calling me'.  It can be much easier to believe that God loves everyone else, but feel unworthy of God's love oneself: something I frequently feel.  Therefore to be given the gift of someone, through whom God is working, telling me that God loves me through God's sacramental incarnation in the Eucharist is the most amazing and powerful thing.  This is a love which has no edges, where none are unworthy and all are special to God individually as well as generally. Wow!  This is too large and wonderful to fully contemplate.  The only possible response I have is wordless worship, and being moved to tears of joy.

The Chapel at Compton Durville

This experience first happened at the Anglican Franciscan house at Compton Durville, in Somerset (which has now sadly closed) where I used to go on retreat.  Receiving the eucharist daily is awesome enough as it is, but on Saturdays and sometimes at other times, a retired priest called Arthur, who is a close friend of the Community, would celebrate the eucharist.  He must have celebrated the eucharist hundreds if not thousands of times, but each time he celebrated it was as if he was celebrating for the first time: a really fresh, alive sense of the presence of God.  This seemed to be felt by everyone present and was a great blessing to all.

I used to retreat at Compton Durville several times per year and so eventually got to know Arthur a little.  One day he gave us all communion by name, including me.   This was a significant turning point or me: when I realised that God turned to me, loves me and calls me as me, however imperfect.  Sometimes that knowledge of God's love and faithfulness is hard to hold on to, but the memory of God's powerful call and love through Arthur 's, and now other priests including Claire's and Kathryn's mediation is helpful at these times.

God is truly an incarnate God, incarnate through the bread and wine at the eucharist and flowing through others who open up a channel for God's love on Earth. 

Book Review: Freaks, Geeks and Asperger Syndrome

Freaks, Geeks & Asperger Syndrome:

A User Guide to Adolescence

Luke Jackson

2002, Jessica Kingsley

ISBN-13: 978 1 84310 098 0

Link to publisher's page for book

Luke Jackson’s account of adolescence with Asperger Syndrome, which he wrote at the age of thirteen, is lively and informal in style.  He is self-aware and writes with a considerable amount of humour about his own condition and the associated conditions which affect various members of his family.  He presents a positive but realistic picture of Asperger Syndrome: having said that he views it as a gift rather than a disability; he also acknowledges some of the more challenging aspects which can be experienced by those with Asperger Syndrome. However, I feel that the book often concentrates on earlier childhood rather than adolescence, so the sub-title ‘A User Guide to Adolescence’ might seem a bit misleading in certain chapters.  Many of the issues discussed, however, are important in both childhood and adolescence.

Luke starts off by talking about Asperger Syndrome, where it fits within the Autism Spectrum and about diagnosis as a label versus a signpost. I think, in many ways these first few chapters are the most significant in the book as far as awareness is concerned. He makes the important point that many young people (or even older people) with Asperger Syndrome would rather know why they are different to others as this helps them to develop strategies for addressing the challenges of life and to understand themselves better.  He also has an excellent discussion about whether young people are likely to exaggerate their symptoms to fit their diagnosis, which he felt was often a fallacious argument; something with which I would agree from my own experience.

In the fourth and fifth chapter, Luke provides excellent discussions of fixations and sensory sensitivity, both of which seem to me to be balanced and well researched.  He generally tries to take into account that others may have different experiences to him within Asperger Syndrome, but sometimes the tendency to think that everyone is like him or can be helped by the same strategies which have helped him comes out (he is not unique in this – many books written by authors who are not on the Autism Spectrum have a similar tendency).  Chapter six, where he discusses physiological differences, is a case in point: he majors on allergy induced autism and the gluten-free and casein-free diet which has helped his family so much, but it is unclear how common this form of Autistic Spectrum condition is in reality. (I suspect that if it was very common, the gluten-free, casein-free diet would now be much more widespread among people with Asperger Syndrome than it appears to be, but I don’t have good scientific evidence for or against this so would need to do more research.)

The latter part of the book tends to focus on topics which are more closely associated with school, and provides some interesting suggestions for insights and strategies to assist Asperger students to get the best out of their school life. Many of these can also be extended into other areas of life with a bit of thought or adaptation although this is not explicitly addressed in the book.  Some of the suggestions may seem a bit extreme to teachers and other adults who are trying to assist but in general the solutions suggested are interesting and reasonable, and those which seem more extreme give an insight into the way that the brain of (this particular) person with Asperger Syndrome works.  For example, Luke is very strongly against homework and cannot see the point in it as he has a very black and white divide between school and home.  He extends this strong dislike to all students with Asperger Syndrome, which in my experience is not the case. Also he does not fully engage with arguments for homework such as developing independent working.

The book closes with a glossary of idioms, which Luke uses consciously throughout the book, partly to help his Asperger readers to appreciate idiom more easily, and a useful appendix of resources.

The book as a whole is an easy, fluid read and would be suitable for both young people and adults; it should do much to raise awareness of the gifts and challenges of Asperger Syndrome.  It is enhanced by pertinent drawings contributed by Luke’s siblings.  Although Luke tries to take into account others’ differing experiences, and to a large extent succeeds in this, the book is very much a personal account so it is worthwhile reading other accounts of Asperger Syndrome and Autism Spectrum Conditions to gain a fuller picture. Several suitable books are listed in the resources section at the back of the book.

On the Importance of the Eucharist

At the end of May, I went to Coventry for the installation of one of my friends as Canon of the Cathedral. It was a beautiful weekend in many ways: meeting lots of lovely tweeps, conversation, laughter, food and last but definitely not least: the eucharist.  I was once again overwhelmed by the presence of God in the Eucharist, so I thought I would like to draw together some of my thoughts in this area.

It all started at my confirmation.  I was baptised and confirmed into the Church of England as an adult and unusually had a gap of six months between baptism and confirmations.  Although it is common for those baptised as an adult to take communion before their confirmation, I did not do so.  I didn't know what to expect at my first communion but having come from a background which was memorialist in outlook and did not place a great deal of emphasis on the eucharist, or the Lord's Supper as they would call it, I certainly did not expect the overwhelming sense of the real presence of God which I experienced on receiving communion at my confirmation.  It was one of the most amazing, enlightening and transforming experiences of my life to date.  It is difficult to describe the sense of the love and presence of God which I felt: there are no words which are adequate to describe it.  ever since that day, the mystery of the eucharist has been a key place of encounter with the presence of God and a place of being fed and strengthened.

This might seem strange, especially from the outside, as God is everywhere at all times and the eucharist 'only' a ritual when looked at from a literal point of view.  Certainly, God's presence is also felt elsewehre in nature, in others, often in surprising places and situations.   However, for me, and for many others in my experience, the eucharist is not just a ritual.  It is a mystery where the presence of God and God's awesome love are made manifest through the humble medium of bread and wine. This awesome sense of God's love  has been conveyed through these humble symbols throughout the centuries since Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples and are a continual expression of Christ's incarnation and passion.

This is the amazing mystery of which St. Francis of Assisi writes so movingly in his Letter to the Entire Order:

O sublime humility! 

O humble sublimity!

The Lord of the universe,

God and the Son of God,

so humbles himself

that for our salvation

he hides himself

under an ordinary piece of bread!

From 'A Letter to the Entire Order' by St Francis, reproduced in A Sense of the Divine: A Franciscan Reader for the Christian Year, European Province of the Society of St Francis 2001.