By Randall Smith
A few years ago there was some energy and enthusiasm around something people called «the new evangelization.» I’ve never been quite sure what it meant, but I’m in favor of evangelizing, so anything that serves that goal seems good to me. However, since we’re thinking about new forms of evangelization, I’d like to propose one.
Let me begin, however, with what should be a deeply disturbing statistic for all committed Catholics. Multiple studies suggest that 96 percent of deaf people, including baptized Catholics, do not attend any church due to the very limited services available to them in their own language (in the United States, American Sign Language or American Sign Language, ASL). In fact, less than 5 percent of churches in the U.S. offer any kind of pastoral care to the deaf.
There is often a basic misunderstanding about deafness and sign language. People frequently say something like: «Well, the deaf can read the readings, so why would we need an ASL interpreter?» The mistake is based on the belief that ASL signs simply represent English, like a written word. But that’s not the case. ASL is its own language, with its own syntax, grammar, and vocabulary, and it is visual, not written.
Consequently, people whose native language is ASL face specific challenges in learning to read English. For them, it is a second language, in a foreign medium. A friend of mine describes it this way: what if instead of an A someone wrote a 1, and instead of an F wrote a 6, and so on? Then you’d be looking at a line of numbers trying to figure out what they mean.
Users of spoken language distinguish «cat» from «cab» when we pronounce it. Deaf people do not learn to read that way. For them, the «t» is like the number 20 to you. If I write: «3, 1, 2» and then «3, 1, 20,» you know there’s a difference, but you won’t know what it is until someone explains that «3, 1, 2» means a vehicle that takes you to the airport and «3, 1, 20» means something soft and fluffy that our dog hates. Now imagine «reading» a «sentence» that looks like this: 1 312 54808 343 878 45, 215 3558. That’s what reading a written language can be like for a deaf person.
Reading English for a deaf person whose native language is sign language is more difficult than if you tried to read a text in ancient Greek without knowing any of the Greek letters. It’s true that you could learn the Greek letters and you could learn Greek, but anyone who has done so can tell you it’s not the easiest thing in the world. It’s not like learning your own language.
If hearing children never had anyone to talk to them, they would never learn to speak. The same goes for deaf children. If parents learn to sign, many deaf children will start signing before hearing children start speaking. But deaf children only learn when people communicate with them in their language.
Sadly, only a very small percentage of hearing parents of deaf children learn to sign. It is very rare, for example, for fathers to learn sign language. Without the support of family and community, how many of those children do you think will end up in church attending Mass?
Aren’t we warned in Leviticus 19:14: «You shall not curse the deaf, or put a stumbling block before the blind; you shall fear your God. I am the Lord»? Don’t we have a Savior who fulfills the promise of Isaiah 29:18: «On that day the deaf shall hear the words of the book, and from the obscurity of darkness the eyes of the blind shall see»?
When John the Baptist, imprisoned, tells his disciples to ask Jesus: «Are you the one who is to come, or should we wait for another?», the Lord responds: «Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.»
Some people seem to think it’s a «nuisance» to have sign language interpreters at Mass. Are church access ramps also a «nuisance» to them? Would they consider a guide dog «out of place» inside the temple? What about a child with Down syndrome?
I’m sorry, but they really need to read the Gospels. These are the people Christ constantly surrounds himself with. Do we welcome them into our Catholic schools and churches? Or do we insist that the state bureaucratic «care» industry handle these things instead of us?
If our churches make it impossible for the blind or those in wheelchairs to enter, or for the deaf to encounter the Word of God, could we hear the passage from Matthew 11:28, where Jesus says: «Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,» and not feel shame? Could we continue to call ourselves disciples of Christ?
«But we don’t have deaf people in our parish.» Of course not. You haven’t offered an interpreter in their language. You probably don’t have many Vietnamese, Hungarians, or Indonesians who don’t speak English either. My archdiocese has churches with services in Spanish, Vietnamese, French, and even Tagalog. Masses in multiple languages are not uncommon elsewhere. So why so few services (almost none) for the deaf?
Remember, they are not signing English. ASL is its own language.
So, if you’re enthusiastic about evangelization, I have a group for you from one of those «disadvantaged minorities» that’s always talked about: the deaf community. The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few.
About the author
Randall B. Smith is a professor of Theology at the University of St. Thomas in Houston, Texas. His most recent book is From Here to Eternity: Reflections on Death, Immortality, and the Resurrection of the Body.