Preparing a Home: On Disability and Accessibility in the Church
Sermon preached by Subdeacon JD Swartz on Sunday, July 12, 2026
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. One God. Amen.
One of the greatest lies we have come to accept is the notion of self-sufficiency; that dependence is weakness, or something reserved for the “other” – children, the elderly, the infirm, the disabled, the poor, and so on. This lie is predicated upon an anti-Christian, and therefore anti-human, notion of the person as an autonomous individual rather than the person as the image of God, the God who exists in radical triune interrelationality. Being made according to God’s likeness, it is no wonder that it was not good for man to live alone, and that one human should become two; looking at Adam in Paradise, it seems that even when in communion with God, the person isolated from others remains incomplete; God Himself said, “It is not good that man should live alone.” Following the Fall, it was not only communion with God which was lost; the introduction of pride brought a focus on the self, and with it a loss of communion between persons as well. The restoration of communion between people and with God is based on the revelation of Jesus Christ.
In today’s Gospel, we are presented with a disabled man, brought before the Lord in faith for healing. In Scripture, we do not find the concept of disability as we have it today, instead we see other terminologies focused on ritual impurity; categories and concepts which delineated between those who could participate in the life of the community and religious life of the temple from those who could not, with priests being the adjudicators of acceptance. These notions were destroyed by the Incarnation of Christ, for by taking flesh, God elevated all material that it might be both salvific and redeemed.
Christ did not see the paralysis of the man as an imperfection which needed to be erased; in the eyes of our Lord, the man, forgiven of his sins, is healed, he is whole as he has been offered restoration of communion with God. The purpose of today’s reading is not that the man rose and walked, that only came about because the people’s hearts demanded something other than the renewal of his relationship with God. We want proof and we want it now. The scribes could not wait to see the fruit of forgiven sin, they wanted a sign and God stooped to our lowliness saying, “Rise, take up your bed and go home,” because there was no other way that society would ever fully accept the man. Walking was required for him to be made whole because, if it had not occurred, his community would have remained an impediment to his healing, for he would remain impure in their eyes.
July is Disability Pride Month, a focus which seeks to shed the stigma which has for so long been pushed upon those with disabilities. I know the idea of pride can make some uncomfortable, but this is a language issue. The English language is like a Swiss Army Knife, taking multiple languages and cramming them into one that gets the job done but doesn’t make it easy and it is often imprecise, using one word in multiple ways. Pride takes many forms, in particular there are two which undermine the communion of persons – comparison and shame. We often believe the type of shame experienced by Adam after the Fall to be the antithesis of pride, but it is, in fact, pride turned inward upon itself, and with comparison, these forms of pride keep us focused upon ourselves and keep others at a distance from us. When we live in a manner which highlights our differences as a source of fear – whether of others’ uniqueness, or to hide who we truly are from others – or as a reassurance that we are correct, we are in danger of the pride which goes before fall.
But there is another type of pride, one which builds up and restores people. This type of pride brings to mind notions like pride in our work, or community pride which is developed by a collective effort to make a space healthy and good to live in. Disability Pride Month is about the restoration of dignity, not to those with disability, for dignity is an innate aspect of being, rather that dignity might be developed or restored for those with disabilities in the eyes of people who would otherize the experiences of disability, those who would ignore disabilities, for all persons and institutions who would dehumanize their neighbors based on this difference. Just a few short decades ago, people with social or intellectual disabilities were institutionalized, left to lay in filth, and chained to beds in overcrowded rooms; earlier in the twentieth century, there existed so-called ‘ugly laws’ according to which those with disabilities could be arrested for being in public. This is not ancient history; as William Faulkner put it, “The past is never dead. It isn’t even past.” Amy Kenny wrote in her book titled, ‘My Body is Not a Prayer Request,’ “The hardest part of being disabled isn’t the pain, it’s the people,” “Maybe what needs healing isn’t my body, but society.”
Why did Christ forgive the sins of the man? Because of the faith of those around him. Why did the man rise and walk? Maybe because of how small our hearts can be toward one another and before the Lord, even if well intentioned. Please do not misunderstand me, to desire a physical healing for yourself or another – there is nothing wrong with that. If you want others to not live in physical pain, I am there with you – I only stand here because of the grace of God and much prayer, as well as a supportive network of people, excellent medical care, and multiple surgeries with rods and screws keeping things in place. I have lived in pain, I walked with a cane and a limp for years, I spent time unable to walk, I understand that the individual experience of pain is debilitating. What I am speaking of in regards to the smallness of heart is the exacerbation of isolation and inaccessibility imposed upon people by others and by a society through lack of accessibility, accommodation, and acceptance.
As we were all bound together in Adam and we each experience the dividing effects of his pride, we are now held together by the Incarnate Christ. St Hilary of Poitiers said, “The paralytic is a descendent of…Adam. In one person, Christ, all the sins of Adam are forgiven. In this case, too, [the paralytic] is called a son [by Christ], because he is God’s first work.” God did not take on humanity so that a person might become god, but so that humanity might become god. Theosis is not an individualist act and does not simply bind one soul to God; instead, it is a webwork of communion between God and humanity which requires that people be bound one to another throughout our lives. This web of communion serves as a net, pulling all of creation to God. The exclusion of people with disabilities, whether by intent or ignorance, by design or lack thereof, leaves this salvific net unfinished; it fails all people, especially those with disabilities, and it leaves the Church as an incomplete incarnation. Christ is the basis of our accessibility to the unknowable God and if the Church – as the Body of Christ – is the continuation of His Incarnation, and if accessibility is not central and foundational to who we are, then who are we? The commandment to love the Lord your God is inseparable from the next, to love your neighbor. Accessibility and accommodation are nothing less than revelations of love, just as Christ is the revelation of God, who is Love. The alternative to accessibility is not merely inaccessibility – it is sin; by being inaccessible we have missed the mark.
The accessible Church is not a parish building which can boast adherence to ADA compliancy, because who cares to use accommodations to enter a space where people do not care about their presence? The accessible Church is the one whose brothers and sisters live in union, the accessible Church loves their neighbors and is prepared to welcome the stranger, the accessible Church does good to those who would believe the Church to be their enemy. This spirit of welcome goes beyond the reception of people through the building’s threshold; it is a continual, daily practice. This is the welcome of agape – the unconditional, selfless, and sacrificial love revealed to us by Jesus Christ. It is from this love – this love which is true accessibility – that intentional, accessible design such as ramps, elevators, lifts, sign language interpretation, hearing assistance devices, service animals, and programs rooted in understanding, acceptance and solidarity will not be afterthoughts; and their uses will be revelatory. They will be revelatory because they offer communion and healing, they foster the work of the Lord in the hearts of all, and they reveal the Church as home, they show us that we are family, they proclaim to each of us that we are loved by God and one another.
This is not specialized ministry. Accessibility is not ‘additions to’ things, accessibility means best practices which increase participation for all. The work cannot simply be the responsibility of people with disabilities, or of caregivers who often already struggle just to make it to Church when they can, nor can the work simply be the efforts of the ‘abled’ on their behalf. The work must be cooperative because accessibility builds community with and through diversity rather than by attempts to homogenize experiences, and it is for the betterment of all people. The Church becomes more complete, more effective, and more incarnational – more truly human, more Christ-like – when we listen and learn to meet one another as we are and offer to meet one another’s needs based on an exchange of information rather than on assumption. In this, the development of accommodations becomes our repentance from the sin of inaccessibility.
If we are one body, we must work together in trust and with vulnerability, and we must use those gifts and experiences which “differ according to the grace given to us.” So, let our love be genuine; let us hate what is evil, and hold fast to what is good; may we love one another with brotherly affection; and outdo one another in showing honor. May we never flag in zeal, and always be aglow with the Spirit, serving the Lord. Let us rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, and constant in prayer. We must contribute to the needs of the saints – that is, one another – and practice hospitality. And if we are to bless those who persecute us, what more should we offer one another, gathered together here, and to those who exist in need among us and just outside our doors? As fellow workers with Christ, when the Lord heals someone, we must be there to help them rise, gather themselves, and ensure that we have prepared a home for them to come to.
This is why, in September, St. Mary’s will offer our first Divine Liturgy with specific adaptations, providing tools to accommodate a variety of disabilities in a space of welcome, where noises and movements are not distractions, where stigma does not apply, where people and families may worship and commune and know that they are not alone in their experiences. This service will not be only for those with disabilities and their caregivers – we are one body – all invited to come; and we hope that you may volunteer to welcome those who may not be able to regularly attend. I want to thank His Grace, Bishop John, Fr. Antony, and the parish council for the blessing, support, and financial contributions so far offered toward this. St. Mary’s is a truly loving community, and I thank you all for being a parish that wishes to ensure that all have access to our Lord, God, and Savior Jesus Christ, and that here there is a home awaiting those who enter.
Amen.