Special Issue Introduction: Disabling Theological Education

Dolmage in Academic Ableism (2017) exposed the ableist and eugenic character of academic culture explaining, “The ethic of higher education still encourages students and teachers alike to accentuate ability, valorize perfection, and stigmatize anything that hints at intellectual (or physical) weakness” (3). Dolmage used spatial metaphors to characterize higher education’s inaccessibility and exclusion: steep steps and retrofits. Steep steps (and heavy doors) are visible reminders that academic institutions have “limited public access and interaction in such a way as to avoid the chance encounter of diverse populations, creating a series of protected interior and isolated spaces” (41). Steep steps also represent a kind of “design apartheid”—the exclusion of disabled people from physical and educational design planning. Retrofits, on the other hand, are additions made to architecture and programs that present as inclusion but do so in an ableist way. In actuality, retrofits announce to people with disabilities, “you are welcome to join us, but there will be no permanent change to or rethinking of the buildings, programs, or pedagogy.” People with disabilities and their concerns are like the ramp; added to a rear entrance so as to not disturb the grand entrance, and just as easily removed.

What is true of the university is also true of theological institutions. Both the university and the seminary have an ideal learner in mind, and this learner is a quick processer of information, self-sufficient, and, most importantly for readers of this journal, able-bodied. What is needed to address theological academic ableism is a disabling of theological education. By disabling I mean acknowledging and addressing ableist biases and the ways they work to filter out disabled bodies and minds from theological institutions. By disabling I mean, positively, including the gifts, challenges, and perspectives of persons with disabilities in all areas of seminary life and allowing their embodiment and epistemological advantages to play a part in shaping theological formation.

The nine articles that follow represent different theories, theologies, and practices of disabling. My brief article, that shares the same title as this edition of the journal, “Disabling Theological Education,” sets up the conversation by introducing the dilemma of ableism in theological education and promoting a framework for disabling (presence, intention, dimension). The following articles will provide concrete examples of different aspects of the task of disabling.

They begin with spiritual reflection by a now-retired Biblical Studies professor who helps to illustrate the value of “presence” in disabling theological education. Dr. Boogaart recounts how including a student with Down syndrome, Amanda, in his Hebrew class not only changed the dynamics of the classroom and the relationships between the students—the inclusion of the not-typical student evoked hermeneutical insights and helped to orient the formational elements of the course in meaningful ways. While not wanting to romanticize Amanda’s involvement in and impact on the course, Boogaart does, in his language, “want to witness that Amanda as a non-neurotypical student brought an intuitive, spiritual sensitivity to the classroom. Like all my other students, she came to this Hebrew class with her own constellation of abilities and disabilities. They formed a community around the learning of Hebrew, and the words of the Bible came alive for them and for me.”

Erik Carter, who will be familiar to the readers of this journal, notes that seminaries and divinity schools have been slow to engage the lived experience of disability and argues that the pathway to more inclusive ministries and congregations begins with academic theological institutions giving more attention to the intersection of disability and ministry. Carter is exploring the role of “intention” (specific programs or courses) in disabling theological education. Toward this end, he evaluates one program designed to prepare students to recognize, appreciate and incorporate the gifts and perspectives of people with disabilities, Western Theological Seminary’s Graduate Certificate in Disability and Ministry, and projects, based on his study, how other institutions might address the intersection of disability and ministry.

Programmatic offerings can be very impactful in challenging and changing student perspectives on disability and ministry, as Carter discovered. However, argues Sarah Barton, if the educational environment is not marked by accessibility, inclusivity, and belonging then students with disabilities will always feel like strangers at seminary. Barton highlights the “dimension” aspect of disabling theological education. She offers a narrative, and critical reflection on that narrative, of an accessibility audit of one theological seminary. Furthermore, she argues that the motivation for such an audit must be shifted from ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) compliance and the enlightened self-interest of institutional agents to one of disability justice grounded in Christian theology. Drawing heavily on insights from disability studies, Barton argues that “Frameworks for ‘disability justice’ from scholars in disability studies as well as disabled people and their allies can help guide processes of addressing accessibility and inclusive learning within theological schools.”

Next Miriam Spies, a doctoral student with cerebral palsy, shares her experience of negotiating educational institutions, including seminaries, that were not designed with her embodiment in mind. She illustrates how over the course of her educational experience she evolved from a student who felt the need to rise beyond other’s stated or implied expectations of what a student should be (a “supercrip”) to feeling the freedom to disrupt spaces and expectations as one who intentionally “misfits.”

The next article is the account of one specific effort to respond curricularly to the call to disable theological education through course design. Erin Raffety and Stuart Carroll narrate a case study on a class offered at Princeton Theological Seminary, “Disability and Christian Ministry,” that placed seminary students alongside adults with intellectual disabilities from the Career and Community Studies program of The College of New Jersey. Raffety and Carroll highlight the mutuality involved in learning and the challenges to preconceived notions of competency, spiritual gifts, and the role of community in the process of discernment that emerged when theological education was engaged in together. In a beautiful statement on disabling, Raffety and Carroll conclude, “It is important that non-disabled theological students’ perceptions of students with disabilities do not remain based in elite cultures of intellectualism and academia, but that these students begin to deconstruct the cultures in which they’ve been educated and display an openness toward the work of the Spirit.”

Sue Rozeboom, who is deeply rooted in liturgical theology and practice but new to the world of disability studies, attempts to reimagine God's divine accommodation through worship in conversation with the principles and practices of Universal Design. Universal Design in Learning, it has been argued, “puts the tag ‘disabled’ where it belongs – on the curriculum, not the learner. The curriculum is disabled when it does not meet the needs of diverse learners” (Tobin & Behling 2018, p. 24). Rozeboom’s article beautifully illustrates this point from a theological perspective when she states, “the invitation to the Church is, at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, to accommodate further the accommodating provisions God has already set forth” (italics in original).

Finally, L.S. Carlos Thompson offers a rationale for and reflection on the Friendship House, a residence where seminary students live with young adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities, as a site for theological formation. He recounts his experience of learning to be an interdependent theologian alongside the “friend” residents who live there. Based upon his experience of co-learning with the members of Friendship House he challenges culturally dominant understandings of vocation and argues that all Christians have a calling or vocation no matter where they fall on the ability spectrum.

Each article offers a glimpse into the practice of disabling, and taken together they offer a vision for disabling theological education.

Correction Statement

This article has been republished with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.