I’ve always been dissatisfied with the church, as far as inclusion goes. I’ve lived with a disability all my life, spent most of my childhood in a long-stay children’s hospital. In-between times I attended a school for physically and mentally handicapped children (1950’s terminology). I picked up a few unwanted labels on the way and needed to do inner work on myself in order to become more reconciled with my two halves of life.
In my late 40’s I went to university and trained to be teacher for children with profound and multiple disabilities and vision impairments. So, I am very comfortable with people who live with disabilities but when I go to church, I don’t see them there!
Some thoughts from Ruth Patterson (Oneing 2022) resonated with me. Ruth speaks of a journey or pilgrimage, a crossing over. We don’t decide when it happens, it just happens. It happens as a result, of an experience, of some encounter and it’s always a gift.
The Gift
I was a new teacher, transferred from mainstream school into special education. The class consisted of 12 children between the ages of 11 and 14. They were profoundly and multiply disabled and all in wheelchairs. The lesson was: ‘Spiritual, Social and Moral Development.’ It wasn’t a lesson in the traditional sense, there were no textbooks, no desks and chairs, no children’s voices. There were vocalisations, but no recognised words. The floor was draped with soft floaty colourful materials, cushions and bean bags, battery operated candles, nature images projected onto white umbrellas, aroma-therapy oils and calming music.
I took my place in the circle and sat on the floor alongside other adults. I stabilised my back against the wall and waited as a child was lowered by hoist into my lap. His broken body lay limp in my arms. I had such a sense of the presence of God in that broken body that my mind went into the Gospel scene of Mary the mother of Jesus, receiving the broken and crucified body of her son into her arms.
Children’s shoes, socks, and splints were removed and we began to massage the children’s hands and feet with Aromatherapy oil. My mind went to the Maundy Thursday Liturgy and the washing of the feet. There was a calmness and a stillness. And there was God among the weak, vulnerable and the broken.
That was my crossing over moment, and I’ve been dissatisfied with the church ever since. Dissatisfied because part of the Body of Christ is missing on Sunday mornings. Dissatisfied because we are not providing a church / worship environment for all God’s children and families to come together to worship, to draw alongside each other to minister together.
And so, reconciliation for me is linked to the church being reconciled and united with all her children living life with disabilities and waiting, out on the edges, for the church to provide accessible buildings, worships spaces and liturgies suitable for their varying physical, cognitive and sensory needs. The more I work to bring about this vision the more I become reconciled to my two halves of life.
Image Source:
ttps://www.deviantart.com/lesya7/art/Two-halves-of-one-whole-150417172
3 comments
I very much resonate with your story of two halves and I thank you so much for sharing that part of your story. It is encouraging to see how God has used your passion and understanding to communicate the love of Christ in such a powerful way. I love the line you used, ‘And there was God among the weak, vulnerable and the broken’. What a beautiful image of service, in massaging oil into the hands and feet of these children.
Your blog without a doubt, challenged me and made me consider my own thoughts and attitudes. I realise so much of my overlooking children and families with profound disability is rooted in ignorance and being uncomfortable in not knowing how to react or respond. Like Franceska, I would be keen to learn from you, and understand how we can best welcome and value adults and children with diverse learning needs into the church and our community.
Wow! I too have a passion for the embrace and acceptance of disability in church (I prefer these terms to ‘inclusion’ or ‘equality’). In my case, it’s adults with learning disabilities that really interest me (obviously, many also have physical, emotional or developmental disabilities too). The passion = passive = what is done to you of Jesus is to some extent part of the lived experience of so many disabled people that it must surely become a spiritual gift? Yes, I’d love to see people of all ages with disabilities in church (and I keep making representation to the clergy that there are simple ways that we could facilitate this for some people, at least). I am currently stuck between the ‘we must make sure that people with disabilities are welcomed into our main services’ and the ‘but why shouldn’t we have a separate service that aims to cater to diverse needs’. I feel that the solution may lie in starting with a targeted service where anyone is welcome if it happens to suit their needs / preferences and then fostering a crossover of people between the two according to their own wishes. I do not intend to try to teach or convert adults with learning disabilities in the conventional way – I feel that it is more important to suggest a general topic and to listen to their (often profound) insight and to relate it to scripture on their terms. If we are all called to come to Christ as a child, surely these are the people who have the least difficulty in doing so? We should be learning from them.
Oh, and I am definitely picking your brains at Ammerdown for ways in which I can begin to offer a welcome to people of diverse learning and sensory needs!