Tonight in my Religion and the Social Process class we discussed Ableism. What, you may ask, is ableism? This is not really a term we are familiar with. Let me try to sum it up for you by describing, in a nutshell, that ableism is the oppression, suppression, and dehumanization directed at those who are differently abled. It is what keeps classrooms segregated, what excludes those who are differently abled from the work force and churches. It is every time a "temporarily abled" person stares at, or through someone who is "different."
A week ago, in a different class, my liturgy professor led us on pilgrimage. Professor Elkins can find the holy in anything, from a trip to Wal-Mart to a cockroach, so you never know what new insights you might find in her presence. When she said we were going on pilgrimage I excitedly rose from my seat and followed the class expectantly, waiting to see where she would take us and what secrets would be divulged to us. We didn't travel far; out the classroom door, down the hallway, making a right down another hallway, and finally ending outside the elevator. She pointed to this picture, and then told us a story.
Back in 1990, she began, we had a student here who was in the Master of Theological Studies program. His name was David, and he wanted to teach. David had severe cerebral palsy; before coming to Drew he had surgery done on his vocal folds in hopes it would help him to speak. The surgery left him unable to use any part of his body except his right hand. This is how David communicated with us; he would type what he wanted to say on a keyboard and we would respond, he would type and we would respond...
David was Episcopalian, and he was a good Episcopalian. He came to every communion service that was held, and often others. Back then, we didn't have this elevator. We didn't have this beautiful new building. How many flights of stairs, she asked, do you have to climb to get up to this chapel? We counted in our heads. You come in the front door and go up about eight stairs. Then you go up about fifteen, then another fifteen... I have counted the stairs, but the numbers are escaping me. Three flights of stairs, Professor Elkins prompts us. David was a very tall man. It took three people to carry him up the stairs every time he wanted to attend a chapel service. We gave David the evangelism award, because every time he was in chapel, there were at least three other people there! It didn't matter if they had intended on coming in the first place- after carrying him up all those stairs, they stayed! We laughed, softly. I try to imagine how much trust one would need to be carried up the hard, stone stairs to Craig Chapel. David asked me if he could preach a senior sermon during his last year, and I of course said yes. I said yes not knowing what this would look like. His sermon was the best I had ever heard. It is the sermon that I now use to judge all other sermons. I look at Professor Elkins. Her eyes are red, and it looks like there are tears just below the surface. David asked me to make him a promise. When the school puts in an elevator, that he would be the first to ride it. And I promised.
Unfortunately, Drew was not quick enough to fulfill that promise. David died before the elevator was installed. But I know that every time one of you rides this elevator, David is riding with you.
She turns and points to the painting on the wall. After he graduated David gave us this painting; he had done it himself. And he told me that, this is everything anyone in seminary needed to know. It was contained in this one picture.
Do you see the cross? The cross is central.
This up here? What does this look like? It's a fish- the early symbol of the Christian faith.
Below that is a vine with grapes on it. Jesus is the vine.
Beside the vine are the Old and New Covenants.
And the top right hand corner...I'm ashamed to say, I didn't catch what Professor Elkins said. My heart felt so heavy, thinking of all this young man had been through, of all he had given to the Drew community, and the un-kept promise of the first ride in the elevator.
When the elevator was installed, it was decided that David's painting be hung next to it in his memory. Now that you have heard the story, you will notice the painting, and when you ride, you will remember David.
This story touched me deeply. I did my best to record it in writing, but it does not do Professor Elkins' storytelling justice. I want to thank Professor Elkins for giving me permission to share this story in memory of David deLuw.
