What can disability reveal to us about God and ourselves? A theology of disability begins with this question. It is a theology that takes disability seriously as a lens for understanding who we are as human beings and who God is.
If we are to examine disability theologically, we must first ask a philosophical question: what is disability? Many take it for granted, yet it can be understood in several ways depending on different interpretive frameworks. There is disability as a medical pathology to be cured—the medical model. Disability as a social construction that arises from the web of socio-structural barriers that disable people with difficulties—the social model. Disability as a cultural identity that binds together a group working for its own emancipation—the minority model. These frameworks help us examine disability theologically by grounding our questions in the various layers of disability itself, from the individual to the collective. They also open up different theological paths.
A brief look at how disability has been approached theologically in the past helps us understand how ancient thought shapes our current reflection and challenges us to move disability theology forward.
In the ancient world, many believed disability was a punishment from the gods. Children deemed imperfect were seen as errors to be eliminated. Greek mythology tells of Hephaestus, the god of fire, who was perhaps born lame—curious that a god should be disabled!—and was hurled from Mount Olympus by his own mother before being saved by his sister. Classical philosophy, shaped by Plato and Aristotle, emphasized reason as the defining trait separating human persons from the animal world. This emphasis on reason and intellect would echo through the theological discourse of antiquity and the medieval period, in figures like Augustine and Thomas Aquinas. Yet we must be careful here. A vision of the human person that elevates reason at the expense of other faculties risks questioning the humanity of people with intellectual disabilities. Is it not the heart—understood as the center of the person in which all faculties converge—that better describes what it means to be human in our identity and our calling? More recently, particularly in the English-speaking world, theological reflection on disability has developed (also in ecumenical contexts), drawing inspiration from images in Scripture—for instance, the image of the crucified and risen Christ who is inclusive. Think of Nancy Eiesland's theology of a disabled God, Jennie Weiss Block's theology of an accessible God, and Tom Reynolds's theology of vulnerability.
The Gospel message is a message of inclusion. It calls us to welcome others and share bread with them. This inclusive message remains part of the life of the Church. How the Church approaches people with disabilities has often been one of hospitality—yet it has often lacked reciprocity. The person with a disability has been seen as exclusively in need, receiving the care of others but unable to offer a personal gift in return. Movements like Fede e Luce and L'Arca remind us how vital it is that relationships between people with and without disability involve both giving and receiving, discovering that each person has gifts, strengths, and vulnerabilities. Moreover, the concepts of ability and inability are present in every individual, with or without disability. These concepts can help rebalance a discourse that has too often worked against the person with a disability—suggesting they are incomplete and will never have enough. All of us have abilities. All of us have inabilities.
Though much remains to be done, people with disabilities now have greater access to sacramental life and often have the opportunity to be active members of their parishes. Yet the need remains urgent: a theology of disability, both theoretical and practical, that does not disable.