Anyone can see that Brent's post, while it's good, has a weak spot, and boy, is it ever a weak one. I could practically knock it over with my walking stick (which I have named Grignr, by the way).
Brent writes:
"Rather, I think that perhaps God gave these people to us as a blessing and an opportunity for us to reflect His love. Just as The Necessary Beggar has mendicants who give us the chance to offer a blessing, so those who are impaired give us the chance to show them love and grace. And in return, they are given the chance to show love and grace by accepting it from us and by teaching us to see the world through their eyes."
Now, I shall give him credit for qualifying his opening statement with "perhaps" instead of positing it as an absolute statement. This statement, however, argues that my role in this earthly city (thanks, Tom. Note to self: find a way to shut him up at night so you don't have to listen to Augustine this, Augustine that.) is secondary to that of a "normal," able-bodied person. What Brent is really saying here is that I've been stuck here to let good, normal Christians show how wonderfully Christian and charitable they are by giving me alms. I swear I should start working for the
The problem with this statement is it still suggests that my disability is a result of sin. How, you ask? Well, think about it. If you, an able-bodied Christian, see me at the side of the road, I "inspire" in you a sense of charity because I'm a tangible person - you can see me (and it had damn well better be me, not Joe!), ergo you can undertake an equally tangible action in giving me some alms and being able to walk away with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside you that screams, "I was charitable today! I'm a good Christian!"
This line of thinking leads to two fallacies. In the first instance, you give me alms because you pity me, or you at least think that it is pity that you are feeling. This causes you to think, at least implicitly, that I am "worse off" than you are because of my infirmity, my inability to walk. By giving me alms out of pity (or at least a thought of pity), you are attempting to bring me closer to God by showing me that I am indeed worthy of charity. This is where the first fallacy lies: this line of thinking leads you to assume that because of my disability, I am further away from God than you are and that I must not be as loved as you are, ergo I am disabled precisely because of the stain of some sin that either I performed or that my parents performed.
The second fallacy follows from the above, but from my perspective, rather than yours. If I identify with my disability as being my primary identifier to society rather than as a secondary identifier, then I am leading myself into the fallacy which I will point out momentarily. What I mean by primary and secondary identifiers is quite simple. If I identify myself as being a disabled person, a cripple, someone who is incapable of walking normally and naturally, then I am using my disabilty to identify and circumscribe my personal and social identity. If, however, I argue that I am a person who happens to be (or simply is) physically incapable of walking, then my disability is a secondary identifier because I see myself as a person first, not as a disabled person first.
Now, the second fallacy is conditional upon my choosing one of the two "choices" above, if you will, in terms of how I self-identify and choose to identify myself visibly, to society. Indeed, this point of self-identification is one that all people must undertake, regardless of whether they are disabled or not, but I shall leave that for another post.
If I choose the first path, namely to see myself as a disabled person in which my disability is my primary (if not the only useful) identifier, then I am opening myself up to the fallacy of disability as sin as well. The reason is quite simple: if I see myself only in terms of my disability, then I either feel pity for myself or, worse, despise myself for my "difference" and my "abnormality," which would bring me to the fallacious conclusion that my disability is the result of sin, that it is the result of something that I must have done previously or that someone else, namely my parents, must have done. This is doubly injurious because not only does it cause me to mistakenly blame God - after all, He is love - but it also disables me in that it causes me to take a passive approach to my disability, to feel that there is nothing I can do.
Now, what of the second choice, choosing to see myself as a person who happens to be disabled? This approach certainly encourages one to take an active role in life, at least insofar as recognising that one's disability is not a passive concept, but is active in that one lives with the disability every day for the rest of one's life (in the case of those born disabled or who acquire permanent disabilities at some point in their lives). This choice is perhaps the more difficult one for a disabled person to recognise as being available, and also in choosing to go down this path in life rather than the former, because the former choice is certainly the easier one because of its premise upon disability being a passive, and thus static and unchangeable, concept..
But, you ask, how does this make sense if I am sitting out at a street corner begging for alms? This is the most difficult part to answer, I think, because it requires that everyone realise what they are really doing, both the disabled and the "normal" able-bodied. The simple answer to my question, obviously, is that those who are begging for alms must be those who chose the first path - disability as a passive concept, and thus as sin. If this is indeed the case, then Brent is indeed correct: the disabled are here for Christians to show them love and grace, but at the expense of the disabled person's identity and self-esteem, by reinforcing the idea that they are not worthy of God's love and grace. This certainly cannot be what God meant when He reminded us to show love and charity to others, just as Jesus did.
This is the question that we all have to ask ourselves, I think - how do we show - and accept - love and grace in such a way that it encourages us to grow and become closer to Him than seeing it as a rejection?
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3 comments:
If I may address Brent's initial remarks directly, I would echo your own sentiment (in greater part) while adding that it has been my own experience to meet many such "Christian" or "religious-oriented" folk whose feelings in regards to the disabled ran in a similar vein.
Ere I continue, allow me to introduce myself, the better to contextualize my comments: I am a twenty-six year old man who, as the result of childhood physical abuse, has been forced to cope with both a chronic pain syndrome (neuralgia induced) and to walk aided by a cane. These impairments have not hampered my ability to achieve my desires, having risen to an executive position within a major videogame development studio, publish two novels and a folio of poetry, along with meeting a breathtaking young woman to share my life and engage in leisurely weekend hikes. Understand, then, that as a fellow "cripple" I applaud your rebuttal of such obtuse remarks as Brent's. Indeed, though I but chanced across your site this very evening (while conducting some amateur research into the life of a medieval court jester), I have found it to be a regular bastion of sound wisdom from a man who has been made to endure more than most can begin to comprehend. Kudos and, in that respect, God bless, mate.
That much aside, I would like to address this comment: "What Brent is really saying here is that I've been stuck here to let good, normal Christians show how wonderfully Christian and charitable they are by giving me alms."
To any so-called Christians reading this, understand that this kind of thinking is not only uncharitable, but prideful, inconsiderate and pretentious. The assumptions you make concerning a disabled individual are, by and large, understandably natural, yet to allow them to so sway you as to believe we require YOUR aid to function and, in functioning, fulfill OUR purpose in life is infuriating. You might as well relegate us to the position of spiritual parking-meters, there to put a few coins in and earn another minutes of "feel-like-a-good-Christian" time. It's a loathsome concept, at best.
Second, I would touch on the following: "...you give me alms because you pity me, or you at least think that it is pity you are feeling." That, I believe, is just as great a presumptive fallacy as that which prompted this very discussion. It precludes the existence of genuinely empathetic people, some of whom I have had the good-fortune to meet. Furthermore, it implies that pity is the sole or, at least, overriding justification by which a person of sound body might be motivated to aid one who is disabled. Surely you can see how twisted that kind of logic is?
Next: "If I choose the first path, namely to see myself as a disabled person in which my disability is my primary (if not the only useful) identifier, then I am opening myself up to the fallacy of disability as sin..." Here too I must disagree, given that you display a marked tendency to equate everything to your Christian faith (for which I applaud you, but only up to a point). In my own studies of religion, I have found that there is no one "true" Church or "perfect" Gospel. Indeed, a man who spends but a moment of his time in studying the Bible alongside the Quran will find marked similarities within such that defy them to decry the advocates of either as inherently superior. Indeed, I have yet to find a single religion that openly encourages its members to lead less fulfilling, less enlightening or less charitable lives. There are none which acknowledge murder, rape or other vile activities as worthy of praise, yet many that encompass words of such eloquence as to sway the hearts of millions. There is, in short, power and value in all faiths. Conversely, there are times in which faith must be set aside in favor of the faculties of pure logic and reasoning.
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The relation of this meandering prose is such: identifying yourself primarily as a disabled person is not necessarily "opening [yourself] up to the fallacy of disability as sin" at all, indeed, many find that in so identifying themselves they are able to push themselves into leading better lives. Take Mark Inglis, for instance, a legless man who, with the benefit of prosthetics, climbed to the top of Mount Everest. What motivated him? In his own words "the challenge of conquering an obstacle deemed impossible for a man without legs." That is, a man with a disability. There are, of course, countless other examples, my own as well. I cannot even begin to recount the limitless times in which the fury of the perceived "injustice" in my life has spurred me on, the desire to show others I could accomplish something led me to do so...I imagine, if you are anything like me, you too have been motivated by identifying yourself as crippled, yet not felt it was a sinful thing to do nor, I hope, that it was in any fashion a result of some sin that led to your current state.
Finally, I would like to broach one very touchy subject (at least where psychologists are concerned), your quotation as follows: "...at the expense of the disabled person's identity and self-esteem..." Here the point is your use of the term "self-esteem" which is inappropriate, given that self-esteem is an individuals own appraisal of their self-worth, not a reflection of the individuals legitimate value. The latter, of course, is arguably impossible to gauge, save in the most dire of circumstances. For instance, in an operating theatre, a surgeon is obviously possessed of greater self-worth than a plumber, yet the plumber may have the greater self-esteem. In confusing the terms as interchangeable, you imply that the simple act of accepting charity is, in and of itself, destructive to a person's perception of their own self-worth. That, my friend, as you are so fond of saying is a fallacy. If, indeed, doing so does adversely affects your self-esteem, I would advise you to take a moment of introspection to analyze why that might be. The issue is obviously your own, as no sane individual can go through life entirely self-sufficient.
I would also care to take a crack at answering your question, presumptuous though that may be. You asked: ...how do we show - and accept - love and grace in such a way that it encourages us to grow and become closer to Him than seeing it as a rejection? I would answer: "We begin by exercising a certain degree of grace ourselves, by acknowledging that each of us are possessed of shortcomings. Physical or mental disabilities are superficially eminent and easily recognizable, yet they are by no means the most devastating. Indeed, the so-called "Seven Sins" of the Catholic church alone tell us that there are far more debilitating afflictions to which men might succumb. In short, forego your pride, accept aid where it is offered, in the spirit it is given and never, ever, cease to offer what aid you too are capable of giving others."
Best of luck to you and yours in this, the holiday season, as in all others...
Just a quick comment, as this is now years old, but, as I'm sure we're all aware, a similar vein of thinking pops up in Piers Plowman, Passus VII:
"But as for aged, white-haired men without the strength to help themselves, pregnant women who don't work because they cannot, the blind, the bedridden, the severely handicapped, lepers, and suchlike who accept their disabilities without complaining — all these receive as complete a pardon as does Piers himself. Out of love for their humility of heart, the Lord God has given them their purgatorial penance here, during their lifetime on this earth."
The instances continue throughout the piece. The point is that the two ideas presented above can coexist without implying that the disabled are sinners. The disabled are a means by which the able-bodied may show pity, but that the disabled themselves may suffer their condition with dignity, and thereby not wait in purgatory.
Just a thought worth considering, I thought.
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