As a disabled theologian, I see the International Day of Persons With Disabilities, established in 1992 by the United Nations and observed each year on Dec. 3, as an opportunity to evaluate where we are as a church and as a society in valuing disabled people as being made in God’s image, with unique and varied gifts. What must Catholics change in order for disabled people to be full and equal participants in our global society?

Approximately one in four Americans, and 16 percent of the world’s population, identify as disabled. Disabled people are everywhere and encompass every age, race, gender, sexual orientation, religion and economic category. Some disabilities, like cerebral palsy, are visible, but others, like chronic fatigue syndrome, are not. 

Disabilities are documented in both the Old and New Testaments, in instances like Moses’ speech impediment (Ex 4:10) and Jesus’ encounter with a paralytic (Mk 2:1-12). Many Catholic saints were disabled, including St. Joseph of Cupertino, the patron of those with learning disabilities, who was known for his “absent-mindedness” and reported incidents of levitation; St. Kateri Tekakwitha, the 17th-century blind Iroquois nun; and St. Pauline, who cared for the poor in Brazil and who lost her arm and sight because of diabetes.

It is a difficult time to be disabled in the United States. In July, Congress passed a federal budget that cuts Medicaid by $911 billion over the next 10 years. This will leave millions of disabled people like me unable to pay for our health care or for personal assistants to help with our daily personal care needs, which enables us to live in our own homes and communities. 

The disabled, as well as other Americans who depend on SNAP assistance, are also experiencing uncertainty about that program’s future and about their ability to pay for food. And there are threats to eliminate longstanding protections for disabled Americans in areas such as education,housing and airline travel. All of this leaves disabled people feeling as if we have been cast aside.

Our church sometimes contributes to this marginalization. Religious institutions were exempted from the landmark Americans With Disabilities Act, and 35 years later, many churches remain inaccessible—lacking ramps for wheelchair users, sign language interpreters for deaf people, quiet rooms for autistic people and online services for those whose conditions prevent leaving their home.

A participant in the Jubilee of People with Disabilities looks at St. Peter's Basilica during a Jubilee session of prayer and catechesis in St. Peter's Square at the Vatican April 29, 2025. (CNS photo/Pablo Esparza)
A participant in the Jubilee of People with Disabilities looks toward St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican on April 29, 2025. (CNS photo/Pablo Esparza)

When disabled people do enter our churches, we can encounter ableist preaching that uses metaphors such as “blind to the will of God” or “deaf to God’s voice.” We can also face well-intentioned strangers who try to “cure us” with prayer. Most disabled people find such attempts wounding because of the premise that a sacred and unique component of our identity is not in God’s favor and must be erased.

As Julia Watts Belser, a disabled rabbi, states: “Healing as [an] imperative promotes the assumption…that ‘able’ bodies and minds are so obviously and naturally desirable that everyone should have them…that there is, in fact, no other dignified way to live.” It is hardly surprising that the disabled social worker Erin Murphy would write, “In a world where many churches say, ‘All are welcome,’ I wonder whether this applies to disabled Catholics like me.”

Most disabled Catholics believe that we are created in God’s image, disabled bodies and all. And we recognize that many nondisabled Catholics genuinely seek a church where disabled identities are affirmed as essential components of God’s diverse human tapestry. How might Catholics translate this belief into actions that authentically center disabled experiences? I have four suggestions.

Look to Jesus and follow his example. Jesus gives us the universal command to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mk 12:31). Throughout his life, Jesus had interactions with many disabled people. He met them where they were, affirming their identities and life experiences. Yet, one may ask, doesn’t Jesus cure disabled bodies? What are we to make of the Gospel healing narratives?

I would argue that Jesus’ action of physical curing is just one part of these stories, which present a rich tapestry of ministry that can be oversimplified by our internalized ableism. When Jesus encounters a blind man, for example, the Pharisees arrogantly quarrel over whether the man’s disability was caused by his own sinfulness or that of his parents (Jn 9:2). Jesus’ emphatic reply stops them in their tracks: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned” (Jn 9:3). Jesus unequivocally reminds his followers that disabled people are not mistakes or punishments but part of God’s diversity, again created in God’s image.

Jesus listens to disabled people. After Jesus notices the blind Bartimaeus persistently crying out for his attention and the crowd ignoring him, Jesus has his disciples invite Bartimaeus over (Mk 10:48-49), forcing the onlookers to interact with the person they had marginalized and ignored. Jesus shows Bartimaeus respect and agency by posing a nonjudgmental question, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mk 10:51). Jesus does not assume a physical cure is the need and only gives sight after being specifically asked to do so by Bartimaeus.

Finally, let us not forget that the body of the risen Jesus did not have its wounds erased. Jesus’ modeling of encounter, open-mindedness and affirmation offers examples to us today in approaching disability.

Listen to disabled people and learn from us.Pass the microphone.Take the time to listen to the disabled people in your own circles—your family, your friends, your parish, your community. Let us share our hopes, dreams and, yes, wounds in our church and society. Absorb the wisdom of disabled thought leaders like the writers Alice Wong (a luminary who died this past Nov. 15), Keah Brown and Judy Heumann, the Catholic journalist Madison Chastain, the poet Laura Hershey, and the comedians Tina Frimi and Josh Blue.

Remember that disability is its own culture. Disabled people are more than a set of medical conditions. We have our own cultural identity and must be respected as such. If you have never experienced disability culture, here are some resources to get you started. 

The Chicago Consortium Bodies of Work strives to be a “catalyst for the development of disability art and culture that illuminates the disability experience in new and unexpected ways.” The mission of Reel Abilities Film Festival is to “showcase films by and about people with disabilities.” The Paul K. Longmore Institute at San Francisco State University is a great resource promoting disability culture and identity. They focus on “disability history and theory, critical thinking, and building a broader community.”

The Institute of Theology and Disability is at the forefront of exploring theology and disability issues from a disability-centered perspective. Several universities now offer undergraduate and graduate programs in disability studies, but theology is sorely lacking within these programs. 

Commit to centering disabled people intentionally and regularly. Prioritizing disabled people and amplifying our perspectives is an ongoing process that necessitates a consistent, intentional commitment. Progress is slowly being made. It was heartening last year to hear Pope Francis publicly affirm disabled people’s right to full inclusion in society. Disabled Catholics also participated in the recent Synod on Synodality, recognizing that the church is our home too. 

Let’s keep the momentum moving forward and go further. I’d like to see disability theology as an academic offering in undergraduate and graduate settings in Catholic institutions. I’d like to see disabled Catholic luminaries, past and present, fully recognized and discussed. We need greater disabled representation in our art and music and in all areas of ministry—lectors, servers, sisters, priests. And, as we work individually and collectively for social justice, let’s center disabled people. For example, much of our social justice energy is now rightly focused on the rights of immigrants. How do we consider the disabled person in this context?

Catholics should not let a fear of mistakes or awkwardness be an obstacle to including disabled people in all actions. Let’s aim to routinely consider disabled people in our thinking, spirituality and action. 

May we affirm that disabled people are in God’s image and that disability is a part of God’s rich diversity. May we commit to breaking down systems of disabled inequality. And may we follow Jesus’ example and continually work toward a church and society where disabled people belong.

David Gayes is a theologian and disability rights activist. He lives in Illinois.