Last Sunday, Penny got in the car after church and said,
“Mom, why does that lady walk with a cane?”

“Well, Pen, you know how you wear glasses?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you wear glasses?”

“To help me see.”

“Well, that lady uses a cane to help her walk.”

“Oh. But why does that lady walk with a cane?”

She had a hard time letting it go. She wanted me to make up
a story to make sense of it for her. And I struggled to help her understand
that canes are a normal part of human existence, that all of us have bodies
that are vulnerable, limited, and dependent upon one another. I can’t say she
was convinced.

On Monday, I attended a conference on Theology and
Disability at the Lutheran Seminary in Gettysburg, PA. One of the themes that
surfaced was the “cult of normalcy” and the idea that disability is a “social
construct.”

Let me give an example. At one point during the conference,
I found myself noticing the three individuals in wheelchairs and wondering what
had “happened” to their bodies. My eyes were also drawn to the two individuals
with hearing aids. It took me a few hours to realize that I never noticed all
the people in the room who were wearing glasses. Glasses, devices that aid
vision, have become so normal to me that I don’t even see them. Poor eyesight is
not considered a disability in our culture.

But, I countered, it is certainly more unusual to use a
wheelchair. My perception can’t just be about normalcy. It must be about
reality. Right? And yet, in our culture, a person in a wheelchair can drive, have access to
stores, schools, churches, restaurants, and the like. Sure, they can’t go for a
jog in the afternoon. Their bodies are limited in particular ways. But my
husband can’t go for a drive without his glasses. I can’t play basketball (I’m
5′ 1″ on a tall day). Is there really as much of a difference as I think I
discern?

And how does the idea of “normalcy” intersect with Christian
theology? On the surface, it seems the Bible would support our reigning
cultural paradigm of normal. People go to Jesus for bodily physical healing. The
blind see. The lame walk. The deaf hear. And yet, taking a closer look at these
stories leads to a different conclusion. Jesus does the same thing whenever he
interacts with someone in need–whether that be the Apostle Peter after he has
denied Jesus or the bleeding woman or the rich young ruler. Jesus speaks or
acts in such a way to restore that person to community. Sometimes that restoration involves a curative action. Lepers couldn’t enter the temple or live with their
families, for instance, without physical healing. And yet Jesus also points out
that some of the Pharisees were as “unclean” as the lepers, even more
“unclean,” in fact. Narratives of healing in the gospels usurp the concept of
normal too.

I don’t think I convinced Penny that walking with a cane was
normal. But I hope I’m figuring out a way to explain to her, and to myself,
that the person who walks with a cane is just like me.