As a work that began as a masters thesis and morphed into a well-regarded theological text, I think this deserves a high amount of praise for the incisive and astute manner in which Eiesland writes. Now 30 years past the initial publication, The Disabled God continues to be an important introductory text on disability theology. Like all theological texts, however, this is not without its problems.
First, this text deserves to have the history of disability rights and justice centered as an addendum or retrospective introduction in a new edition. We are currently 30 years removed from this, but Eiesland was writing only 4 years after the passage of the ADA - a law which faced considerable opposition from certain church groups. The legendary 504 sit-in was only 17 years prior. We are as far from The Disabled God now (2024) as she was from the early Kennedy administration's early forays into disability research (Eunice would found the Special Olympics in 1968, a mere 24 years before publication). In the 80s and into the early 90s, the only theologians doing significant work in this intersection were Hauerwas and Young, so Eiesland's work was not only relatively novel, it was on the cusp of an important shift in the American imagination. It is hard today to remember the massive social changes happening re: disability throughout the 30 years prior to this text, but those changes add a much needed layer of context.
Were I to offer a more detailed intro, I would also include greater emphasis on the shift from a medical perspective of disability to one of rights and legality. Eiesland's work in naming this shift is more important than her text shows at first glance, and the framing of bodies as political symbols helps weave an important thread throughout the work. Likewise, a reminder of the importance of collapsing the hierarchy of 'centered' and 'marginal' in eccelsiology (Chapt. 4) deserves additional highlighting. This is the primary value of the text in my opinion, and the emphasis on disability experience as source of theological insight is a close second.
Chapter 5 contains her famed revelation, that she “saw God in a sip-puff wheelchair, that is the chair used mostly by quadriplegics... Not an omnipotent, self-sufficient God, but neither a pitiable, suffering servant. In this moment, I beheld God as a survivor, unpitying and forthright. I recognized the incarnate Christ in the image of those judged ‘not feasible,’ ‘unemployable,’ with ‘questionable quality of life.’ Here was God for me.”
This is a classic in many ways, although not one that always stands up to intense dogmatic scrutiny. From a pastoral perspective, it offers an incredible insight into an incredibly important aspect of human experience in ways that would aid congregants and ministers alike. From a methodological perspective, it is interesting, although not something to use as a base. From a constructive perspective, it is again interesting, but somewhat light. Rather, this shines as a social text, holding a mirror up to our own continued lack of support for disabled participation and just inclusion and forcing us to ask why we have been so quick to forget this clear challenge.
A few critiques: this is a text rooted in the experience of physical disability in construct with intellectualism, leaving very little in the way of liberation for folks with intellectual/developmental disabilities (which Eiesland notes, at least). The text, in reaching for a God who saves *now* and not in some Heaven with "perfected" bodies is a worthy resistance to the sort of theologically-bereft platitudes one might hear at a funeral for a disabled person (I.e. "now that he's dead, I bet he's glad to be out of that wheelchair and is running around Heaven right now!"). This, however, offers no balm to those facing chronic pain and illness, for whom bodily resurrection is a hope rather than a condemnation. Finally, Eiesland's construction of disability seems incongruous with her exploration of the wounded body of the resurrected Christ; rather than disabled, Jesus is more 'super-abled' in His miraculous abilities. Scars and wounds do not carry the social barriers that disability experiences do, and even if so, Jesus only faced those between death and ascension rather than over the course of a life.
Overall, well worth the read. It is a necessary part of the disability theology canon, and perhaps the most seminal text for the subfield. It provides a context for nearly every book in the intersection since, and deserves a place in the 'famous modern theology books hall of fame.'