Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors Program

Inclusion in Worship

Inclusion Awareness Day Workbook 2004

Creating Congregations Where People of All Abilities Participate

Saints with Disabilities Provide Lessons for Today

by Mary Jane Owen, Director, Disabled Catholics in Action

A support group of head-injured individuals listened attentively to my examples of the positive aspects of my accumulated disabilities. But half way through my lecture I wondered if this were really true for these young people. Did they share my view? I asked for a few minutes of meditation. The result was the opening of a floodgate of passion as I listened to their stories of the discoveries of new ways of fulfilling their lives and the insights they had gained as a result of their severe loses.

The following day a leader of the Hemlock Society screeched angrily, "There can be nothing redemptive about human suffering and disabilities!" Sharing stories of the human spirit's ability to rise above the challenges to learn new ways of fulfilling personal potential did little to alter the negative views of this unhappy warrior in the battle for an "easy exit" from a life with disabilities and dependency.

The spiritual dimension of the gift of human vulnerability was clarified in 1991 during the 500th anniversary of the birth of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. This "lame" man's priestly journey from a gallant in court to development of various routes to holiness and sainthood grew out of his struggles in addressing his disabilities.

Could recognition of one's vulnerabilities and fragility and the willingness to accept the need for a new vision of the meaning of one's life be an essential part of the spiritual discernment which leads to greater communication with our Lord? And so began a personal journey of discovery for Ignatius.

St. Angela Merici established the Ursuline Sisters in 1535 to teach young girls outside cloister walls. She considered her blindness God's reminder she must never close her eyes to the needs of others. St. Lutgardis also considered her blindness a gift, since it reduced the distractions which might have tempted her.
 

Of course one of the most famous spiritual transformations was the result of the blindness which turned Saul into St. Paul. He noted his zeal in persecuting the church, acknowledging he had acted "ignorantly in unbelief," and that Christians in Judea knew that one who "was formerly persecuting us is now preaching the faith he tried to destroy."

Blessed Margaret of Castello was not only born blind but also dwarfed and with severe scoliosis and is very special to those of us with disabilities who are not pleased that many suggest she is the saint of the "unwanted." True, she was abandoned by her noble family who thought her a monster but people with various disabilities identify closely with her and know they, like her, are truly wanted by the Lord just as they are. Through all the trials she faced as she wandered the streets of the city of Castello, she knew her Heavenly Father loved and would never abandon her. Ministering to the marginalized people of Castello during the harsh days when medieval eyes saw only the ugliness and grossness of their "crippled" contemporaries, she became an inspiration and guide to the homeless, the disabled and the despised of her time.

St. Teresa of Avila offers another vivid example of the changes in one's spiritual life which can follow physical challenges. She suggested that if her travails were an indication of how Christ treats His followers, "No wonder you have so few friends." As a teenager she was preoccupied with boys, clothes, flirting and acknowledged she was rebellious. She rather casually chose to enter a religious community but shortly after her profession became seriously ill and was never again well.  Through all she affirmed, "Even if sickness distracts from thought all that is needed is the will to love."

St. Theresa of Lisieux had a calling quite different from that of the flamboyant Teresa but is also recognized as an inspiring doctor of the faith. She wrote often of her frailties, noting, "Your little bird is happy to be weak and little." And again, "Jesus is pleased to teach me the science of glorying in infirmities. That is a great grace and I pray Jesus to teach it also to you, for there alone are found peace and repose of heart." She did not create a religious community or build monestaries but spoke to the weakness of God's people, "He has created the great saints who are like the lilies and the roses, but he has also created much lesser saints and they must be content to be the daisies or the violets which rejoice his eyes whenever he glances down."

There are so many: St. Alphais who witnessed the loss of her limbs through leprosy: St Benedict Joseph Labre whose strange behavior and wanderings might be diagnosed today as mental illness as he sought a religious community that would accept him; St Servulus whose severe cerebral palsy prevented him from walking, or even sitting up unaided; St Maximilian Kolbe whose tuberculosis almost ended his life even before Nazi cruelty did; St. Seraphina who was in pain and paralyzed and who was carried about on a board; St. Giles whose leg was severely injured as he meditated in his cave retreat and could never walk normally again but who rejoiced in his weakness and St. Alphonsus Liguori in his wheelchair.

Who knows what potentially saintly roses and violets bloom next door? In June powerful leaders and simple people gathered at St. Catherine Laboure Catholic Parish in Wheaton, Md. as the 13 year old Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek was laid to rest. He wrote in Hope Through Heartsongs:

In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be. . . .

Mattie lived with a wheelchair, a ventilator and a breathing tube; a Broviac tube was tucked into his heart. Would that woman from the Hemlock Society be repulsed by all the "intrusive artificial life support devices" essential to allow this small soul to share his vision of world peace and joy? Is a child with muscular dystrophy who leaves us with his special message, "Remember to play after every storm" united with our saints in the mystery of human vulnerabilities? I pray so.