People with Disabilities Belong Too!
Jeremiah 31:7-9; Mark 10:46-52 - 22nd Sunday after Pentecost, October 24, 2021
Pastor Ritva H Williams
A long time ago — when I was in high school — in a land faraway I met a guy. You all know him. What you may not know is that long ago in a land faraway, he played the tuba in the infantry reserve band of the Governor Generals Foot Guards. They performed in military parades, concerts in the park, senior centers, and once at an institution for children with disabilities. As I sat in the audience that afternoon, a little boy came and climbed on my lap for a snuggle. Every now and again he would reach up to touch my hair or my face and say, “mama.” He was absolutely devastated when the concert was over and one of the staff came to take him away. That was a defining moment for me.
Jump ahead a handful of years, John and I are married. We have a 3 1/2 year old daughter, a 22 month old son, and a healthy newborn baby boy. Within a few months, James is diagnosed with Central Congenital Hypoventilation Syndrome, a rare condition that causes sleep apnea and dangerous levels of carbon dioxide in the blood. The only remedy is mechanical ventilation, at that time, through a tracheotomy. We are told not to expect too much. Even if James makes it to his second birthday, he probably won’t be able to speak and will be developmentally impaired. The simplest option is to arrange for institutional care. Can you guess what our response was to that suggestion?
John and I learned how to care for a child with a tracheotomy. We brought James home for the second time on his first birthday. We never told him that he couldn’t talk because of his tracheotomy. Guess what, he learned to speak just fine and he never experienced any developmental delays. By the mid 1980’s children with special needs were guaranteed full access and government funded accommodations to attend public school. For James that meant a registered nurse to handle his tracheotomy care. When he was 12, a new BiPap ventilator with a face mask allowed his doctor to close the tracheotomy. James graduated from high school, did some college, held down a job, and lived independently. He was 39 years old when he died on March 8, one of the oldest CCHS patients in North America. But why am I telling you all this?
Did you hear the words of the prophet Jeremiah this morning?
Thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob … See I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here. With weeping they shall come, and with consolations I will lead them back. I will let them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble; for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn.
As Professor Anathea Portier-Young writes, “Jeremiah’s oracle promises salvation for the scattered remnant of Israel, return from exile, and joyful homecoming.” She goes on, “As I consider how one might preach this passage, the first question that comes to my mind is, whom have we lost? … Whom have the consequences of our own sin and that of our ancestors expelled from our faith community, our neighborhoods, or our land? Whom does God intend to bring home to you? What will your hope in God’s promise mean for the faith and actions of your community.” (www.workingpreacher.org, 2015).
Jeremiah tells us that God intends to bring all of God’s people home, including the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor. To borrow the words of Professor Elaine T. James,
“These are people with disabilities. Vision and mobility are highlighted, emblems of disabilities that would affect travel. They are people who are vulnerable: women and children … pregnant and in labor, closest to the perils of childbearing and infancy. Together, these are community members with bodily conditions that require social supports, and for whom a long journey … would otherwise not be possible. This band of people with disabilities and vulnerabilities are ‘a great company’ … comprised of those whose bodies by virtue of sex, status, and features are judged as non-normal. These bodies have been excluded … [But now] the marginal are made great … by divine action. The social supports needed to provide access for people with disabilities are provided here by God … God provides accommodations for the community.” (www.workingpreacher.org, 2021).
In our gospel reading this morning, we meet blind Bartimaeus, sitting “outside the city walls, outside of the path, outside of the light, and outside of the economy” (Luis Menendez-Antuna at workingpreacher.org, 2021). Because of his disability Bartimaeus cannot form a family, work to support himself, or engage in civic or religious life. Someone tells him Jesus is coming along the road and he begins to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” People in the crowd try to shut him up. Bartimaeus cries out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Bartimaeus doesn’t want eternal life like the rich young man. He doesn’t want to be great like James and John. He just wants mercy. When Jesus asks Bartimaeus what mercy means for him, he says, “Rabbouni, let me see again.” For Bartimaeus the only way to belong, to be an active and effective member of his community was to have his eyesight restored. He trusted Jesus to make it possible for him to belong, to be part of the community of disciples.
St. Stephen’s A Place for Everyone — All Are Welcome Capital Appeal Campaign and Building Renovation Project are rooted in the realization that aspects of our building actually make it difficult and sometimes impossible for persons with disabilities, as well as some of our youngest and oldest members to participate fully. We don’t have restrooms that are easily and quickly accessible from the sanctuary. We don’t have barrier free entry ways, or restrooms that accommodate persons on crutches, walkers or in wheelchairs. The plans for addressing these issues emerged from conversations with members whose disabilities made it difficult to worship here or who had to stop worshipping here altogether, mothers who had to change their babies on the floor of the narthex because there is no room for a change table in the women’s restroom, or struggled to assist toddlers in narrow stalls that barely accommodate one person. As a congregation we hold up warmhearted hospitality as a core value, yet our kitchen is so small and inadequately equipped that preparation and clean up for funeral luncheons and church suppers is painfully laborious and slow. The plan for enlarging the kitchen came from the people (mostly women) who prepare those meals and clean up afterwards. The voices of women who cook and clean, the voices of babies and toddlers, the voices of parents and grandparents, the voices of elderly folks, the voices of persons with disabilities — all of those voices count.
Given our family history, perhaps you can see why it is impossible for John and I not to hear those voices and why we are one of the 38 member households that have pledged to the capital campaign. Our hope and prayer is that the remaining 60+ member households will join us in this endeavor to make sure that all of God’s people, differently abled and differently vulnerable, will not only find a welcome here but will find accommodations and support for their special needs.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.
