Rethinking New Testament Exegesis Through a Dis/Ability-Informed Lens: Conceptual Insights, Research Trajectories, and Interpretive Examples

Abstract

The hermeneutical engagement with biblical texts informed by Dis/ability Studies expands the framework of historical-critical exegesis by introducing a perspective that seeks to deconstruct those conceptualizations and power structures which contribute to the stigmatization and discrimination of individuals who do not conform to the socioculturally constructed ideals of normalcy and autonomy. This article offers an overview of current scholarship on the subject and highlights the opportunities and possibilities for new interpretive directions opened up by a dis/ability-critical hermeneutic.

1. Introduction

One of the least disputed aspects of the historical Jesus is that he is remembered as a healer and worker of miracles.1 Do not the canonical Gospels testify that it was a hallmark of Jesus’ activity to heal illnesses and infirmities? And is this not also understood as the task and commission of his followers? Our perspective as readers is profoundly shaped by these New Testament texts: we perceive healing and restoration to health as the desired outcome, as the miracle stories of the canonical Gospels suggest. This interpretive lens, along with the history of reception, governs our perception, structures our thought, and regulates our own interpretation of the texts (cf. also Krahe 2002, pp. 147–49). For contemporary readers, therefore, the action of Peter toward his daughter, as it is narrated in the apocryphal Acts of Peter, appears cruel and incomprehensible:

On the first day of the week, which is the Lord’s Day, a great crowd assembled, and many sick people were brought to Peter that he might heal them. But one man from among the crowd grew insolent and said to Peter: “Peter, behold, in our presence you have made many blind to see, the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk. You have helped the weak and given them strength. Why then have you not helped your own virgin daughter, who has grown into a beautiful young woman, and who […] has come to faith in the name of God? For behold, one side of her body is completely paralyzed, and she lies disabled there in the corner. People see those whom you heal—but your own daughter you have forgotten!” But Peter smiled and said to him: “My son, to God alone it is evident why her body is not healthy. Know then that God is neither too weak nor powerless to grant his gift to my daughter. But in order that your soul may be convinced, and that those present may believe all the more—.” […] And he looked upon his daughter and said to her: “Rise from your place, without assistance from anyone but Jesus alone, walk about in health before all these people, and come to me!” She rose, walked down to him, and the crowd rejoiced at what had taken place. Peter said to them: “Behold, your minds have been convinced that God is not powerless concerning all things for which we ask him.” And they rejoiced all the more and glorified God. Peter then said […] to his daughter: “Return to your place, sit down, and be again in your sickness! For this is what is beneficial for you and for me.” The girl returned, sat in her place, and was as before. The whole crowd wept and begged Peter that he might heal her. But Peter said to them: “As surely as the Lord lives, this is for her benefit and for mine. For on the day that she was born to me, I saw a vision, and the Lord said to me: ‘Peter, today a great […] temptation has been born to you. For this girl will harm many souls if her body remains healthy’”.

(my translation of Plisch 2017, p. 584)

In this account, the apostle heals his daughter—who until then had been lying paralyzed in a corner—in order to demonstrate through her the miracle-working power of God. Yet once the miracle has served its purpose, he consigns her once more to her paralysis, and she returns to her place. According to the apostle’s reasoning, this is to her benefit: a young woman who is beautiful, healthy, and physically strong—and thus attractive to men—would be, from the perspective of the ascetic ethic of the Acts of Peter (cf. Luther 2015), at a disadvantage. Whatever judgment we may render today on the ascetic ideals reflected in the apocryphal Acts of Peter, it is noteworthy that the daughter’s disability is not depicted in negative terms but rather as divinely given, beneficial, and purposeful.

The New Testament writings, by contrast, frequently frame disability in negative terms. In the story of the healing of a paralytic in Mark 2:1–12, for example, the man’s paralysis is closely linked to sin: before healing him, Jesus pronounces the forgiveness of his sins (cf. Schiefer Ferrari 2012, pp. 28–31; 2014). A comparable association—this time between blindness and sin—emerges in John 9 (cf. Grünstäudl and Schiefer Ferrari 2012). The sociocultural and theological frameworks underlying such texts presuppose particular connotations of and value judgments concerning disability (e.g., physical defect, social exclusion, moral deficiency). These assumptions remain implicit in the narratives themselves but are nonetheless constitutive for their interpretation. Conventional historical-critical exegesis, with its focus on the ancient context and socio-historical background, rarely interrogates the implications of these conceptualizations for those directly affected.

A hermeneutic informed by dis/ability2 studies presses the inquiry further: What does it mean for persons with paralysis when their community interprets their condition as a consequence of sin? And what does it mean for contemporary readers who, in encountering these texts, find themselves positioned within the culturally and socially constructed categories of “disabled” and “normal”? By what criteria, through which structures, ideologies, or discourses, are these categories constructed—and how are individuals in antiquity and in the present assigned to one or the other?

A dis/ability-informed hermeneutic of the New Testament thus extends historical-critical and narratological approaches by adding a perspective aimed at deconstructing the concepts and power structures that perpetuate the stigmatization and marginalization of individuals who do not conform to socially constructed ideals of normality and autonomy. In recent years, a growing body of scholarship has explored the exegesis of the New Testament from dis/ability-informed perspectives. The present study seeks to illuminate the concerns of this hermeneutical approach, to survey key contributions in the scholarly literature, and to highlight the significance of a dis/ability-informed hermeneutic for the interpretation of the New Testament.

2. The Concerns of Dis/Ability Studies and Their Reception in Biblical Scholarship

Within the framework of dis/ability studies, “disability” is understood as a category based on the perception or construction of bodily difference that is then negatively evaluated (Schneider and Waldschmidt 2012, p. 132). A distinction is made here between impairment, that is, a medically or psychologically diagnosable limitation or damage, and disability, the resulting social disadvantage (Waldschmidt 2007, p. 57). This differentiation underscores the point that bodily impairment or difference need not be equated with disability in the sense of stigma or diminished participation. Dis/ability studies thus engage in a critical analysis of the social, political, and cultural ascriptions of meaning, as well as the theological, ideological, and discursive conditions that have shaped and continue to shape such attributions. At the center of attention lies the construction of normality (in contrast to “otherness”) across disciplines, grounded in specific norms and ideals (Bösl et al. 2010).

Dis/ability is thereby understood as a category that highlights inequality, analogous to gender, class, race, and age (Waldschmidt 2017, pp. 19–27). At the same time, dis/ability is defined in broad terms: it functions as “a highly complex, rather imprecise umbrella concept referring to a diverse range of physical, psychological, and cognitive traits, whose only commonality is that they are linked to negative attributions such as limitation, weakness, or incapacity” (my translation of Waldschmidt 2010, p. 14). Accordingly, dis/ability studies do not work with a binary distinction between “disabled” and “normal,” but propose a more nuanced spectrum, employing terms such as “temporarily abled,” “differently abled,” or “embodied difference” to describe the human condition (Waldschmidt 2010, pp. 14–15; cf. also Schiefer Ferrari 2014, pp. 631–32).

Within dis/ability studies, three primary models of disability are generally distinguished:

• The individual or medical model: This model posits a direct connection between individual impairment and disability. An ostensibly objective, scientific medical evaluation of an individual’s physical functioning or non-functioning and of their independence or dependence is bound up with a devaluation of illness, weakness, dependence, and disability, and with an interpretation of these conditions as a matter of personal fate or misfortune.
• The social model: According to this model, disability arises “through systematic exclusion and is not simply the result of medically diagnosed pathology. People are not disabled on the basis of a health impairment, but by the social system that assigns them a marginalized position and erects barriers to their participation. Disability is thereby framed within the context of social oppression and discrimination and is addressed as a social problem requiring welfare support and collective (self-help) action” (my translation of a quote from (Schneider and Waldschmidt 2012, p. 139); for a critical view on this model see (ibid., 141ff)).
• The cultural model: This model—currently the most prominent in German scholarship—argues that disability is culturally constituted. It focuses on analyzing and critiquing the cultural, structural, and ideological conditions that result in categorization and thus open the way to marginalization and stigmatization. Moreover, it emphasizes that the categories “disabled” and “normal” are mutually constitutive and closely interconnected. Hence, alongside dis/ability studies, research into the very notion of “normality” itself is indispensable (cf. Waldschmidt 2005, pp. 25–27; cf. also Schneider and Waldschmidt 2012, pp. 128–59).

In addition to these three classical models, other approaches are also discussed—for instance, a religious model that analyzes the relations of dependency between the church as an institution and persons with disabilities (a model that could also be extended to ancient religious contexts) (cf. Wheatley 2010, pp. 10–19; see also Schiefer Ferrari 2012, p. 39).

Although individual studies on disability began to emerge internationally in the mid-twentieth century (cf., e.g., Foucault 1973), dis/ability studies only developed as a coherent field in the 1970s in connection with the political disability rights movement, initially in the United States and England.3 In Germany, the movement also began in the 1970s, but dis/ability studies were established—for example, within the academic context—only in the early 2000s.4 Today, dis/ability studies are well established in the social sciences, cultural studies, history, education, and literary studies, and—due to the inherently intersectional nature of the subject—are embedded in diverse interdisciplinary conversations (cf. Dederich 2007; Waldschmidt and Schneider 2007).

For New Testament hermeneutics, the perspective of dis/ability studies is of considerable importance. The texts of the New Testament—above all the miracle stories—repeatedly employ concepts and language that transmit patterns of differentiation rooted in the culture, society, and theology of their time. Approaches inspired by dis/ability studies expose the ways in which the normative texts of the New Testament canon continue to participate in constructing and reinforcing particular categories and value judgments that separate disability from normality and assign negative connotations to the former. Biblical scholarship that is inspired by the perspective of dis/ability studies emphasizes that what does not conform to the norm—“the abnormal, the broken, the crooked, the diminished”—should no longer be regarded as a disturbing factor. Rather, “disabled persons, precisely as disabled as they are, are to be welcomed as part of the diversity of creation, rather than lamented as defective beings” (my translation of Krahe and Metternich 2012, p. 38). The aim, however, is not

to abandon biblical healing narratives on the basis of a misguided political correctness. The particular challenge of a dis/ability-critical reading lies instead in rediscovering, on the one hand, the norm-critical and reality-transforming potential of the healing stories—especially when Jesus turns toward sick and disabled persons and thereby disrupts prevailing expectations of (social) normalcy (cf. Mark 2:12; 10:48)—and, on the other hand, in critically identifying those implicit notions of normalization that continue to function in exclusionary ways.5

For this reason, Schiefer Ferrari calls for a “double contextual analysis,” which examines texts within their socio-economic and cultural frame of reference and arrives at an adequate interpretation by taking seriously both the contextuality of the readers’ perspective and the contextuality of the text itself (Schiefer Ferrari 2014, p. 632).

The approach of dis/ability studies thus provides a hermeneutical lens that interrogates New Testament texts and their history of interpretation from a dis/ability-informed standpoint. It does not primarily direct attention to disability or otherness itself, but rather to the majority culture, its modes of textual understanding, and their consequences for people with disabilities. From this vantage point, the task is to struggle for new ways of perceiving and interpreting biblical texts in contemporary contexts of interpretation.

3. Approaches Within Biblical Studies: An Overview of the Scholarly Literature

For a long time, research in biblical studies focused primarily on analyzing the perception and representation of illness and disability in biblical texts as well as in related literature. In recent years, however, the scholarship has grown considerably, spurred by a reconceptualization of dis/ability in its social and cultural dimensions.6

In his 2007 survey of scholarship, Hector Avalos distinguishes three principal approaches to biblical texts from a dis/ability-informed perspective (which naturally overlap to some degree): (1) the redemptionist approach, which seeks to “rescue” the biblical texts from misunderstanding and condemnation by contemporary readers, for example, by “explaining away” the negative associations with disability or by counterbalancing the linkage between sin and illness with other passages; (2) the rejectionist approach, which subjects (biblical) texts to wholesale critique with respect to their applicability to contemporary contexts and abandons attempts to derive authoritative or normative claims from them. Both of these approaches bring into sharp relief the ongoing struggle over the theological and ethical authority of biblical texts for modern readers. As a third approach, Avalos identifies (3) the historicist approach, which treats the texts as historical documents—products of a society in which no dis/ability-informed discourse existed, and which therefore speak into a world where mental and physical disability, like any illness, could quickly become life-threatening. This historical approach does not aim to apply biblical texts to the present but rather seeks to construct a multifaceted historical picture of how dis/ability was negotiated in the past (Avalos 2007).7 The emphasis on the historical perspective of dis/ability in ancient texts—both in biblical studies and in adjacent disciplines—thus continues and expands the classical approach in a fruitful way.8

In recent years, more specific tendencies have emerged: On the one hand, scholarly attention has shifted from the biblical texts themselves to their history of interpretation, with critiques highlighting how negative attributions have been perpetuated across the centuries and embedded in modern society (cf. Yong 2011). On the other hand, an intersectional broadening of the field has taken place, examining overlaps between dis/ability studies and gender (cf., e.g., Bê 2012; Wilson 2015; see also Wainwright 2006; Moss and Baden 2015), race (cf., e.g., Stienstra 2012) as well as studies of children and childhood in antiquity (cf., e.g., Davis 2012) and aging (cf., e.g., Bigby 2012). Interdisciplinary studies have explored, for instance, the intersections of theology and medicine; the corpus of canonical texts has been expanded to include non-canonical writings; and the focus on illness and physical disability has been extended to infertility, mental illness, or bodily difference such as is the case for eunuchs.9 The approach of dis/ability history, which seeks to portray persons with disabilities as agents and individuals within history, has also begun to inform theological studies (cf. Bösl et al. 2010; Schiefer Ferrari 2012).

Commentaries such as The Bible and Disability read biblical texts consciously and comprehensively through the lens of dis/ability studies—analogous to feminist or liberation-theological commentaries and commentary series.10 The consolidation of this field is further evidenced by the publication of handbooks such as the Routledge Handbook of Disability Studies (Watson et al. 2012) and by journals such as the Journal of Disability and Religion.11

4. The Perspective of the Affected: Christ and Paul Through the Lens of Dis/Ability Studies

In Christian contexts, disability and illness are still frequently interpreted today as punishment, as a test of faith, as sins of the fathers visited upon the children, as an act of God, or as a combination of these explanations (Eiesland 2001, p. 7). Healing is equated with salvation,12 and when healing does not occur, reference is made to the future glory in which all deficiency will be remedied (cf. Eiesland 2001, pp. 20–21).13 What often goes unrecognized in such frameworks is that individuals may understand their disability or (chronic) illness as an integral aspect of their identity, and may perceive the divine within the wounded body itself.

From the perspective of dis/ability-informed hermeneutics, these interpretive patterns are challenged by the woundedness of Christ. The New Testament narratives of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection—especially the accounts of the appearances of the risen one—explicitly mention his wounded hands, feet, and side. The incarnation of God in Christ and the emphasis on his embodiment are revealed precisely in the fact that the risen one continues to bear the marks of his suffering on his body. For this reason, it has to be emphasized that “[r]esurrection is not about the negation or erasure of our disabled bodies in hopes of perfect images, untouched by physical disability” (Eiesland 1994, p. 107); rather, it is underscored that “Christ’s resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei, and that God—whose nature is love and who stands on the side of justice and solidarity—is touched by our experience. God is changed by the experience of being a disabled body” (Eiesland 1994, p. 107; cf. also Cox 2017).

This “disabled God” stands in solidarity with people with disabilities at the margins of society and initiates change precisely from this decentralized position (cf. also Metzger 2010). In doing so, he offers a point of identification for persons with disabilities, for:

Our bodies participate in the imago Dei, not in spite of our impairments and contingencies, but through them. The conflation of sin and disability causes problems for the interpretation of the resurrected Jesus Christ. What is the significance of the resurrected Christ’s display of impaired hands and feet and side? Are they the disfiguring vestiges of sin? Are they to be subsumed under the image of Christ, death conqueror? Or should the disability of Christ be understood as the truth of incarnation and the promise of resurrection? The latter interpretation fosters a reconception of wholeness. It suggests a human-God who not only knows injustice and experiences the contingency of human life, but also reconceives perfection as unself-pitying, painstaking survival.

(Eiesland 1994, p. 101)

This reconceptualization of God—which no longer places Christ at the center as the suffering servant, the exemplar of the righteous sufferer, or the triumphant conqueror over suffering and death, but instead interprets him as the disabled God—is characterized as a contextual Christology and situated within the framework of liberation theology. The disabled God is linked to the metaphor of the church as the body of Christ, which makes it possible that “people with disabilities can affirm [their] bodies in dignity and reconceive the church as a community of justice for people with disabilities” (Eiesland 1994, p. 104). Thus, from narratives such as the disciples’ encounter with Jesus on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13–35) or the dialogue between Jesus and Thomas (John 20:24–29), the identity-forming woundedness of the risen one can be discerned—a recognition with far-reaching significance, capable of transforming the church itself:

Der Urgrund christlicher Theologie ist die Auferstehung Jesu Christi. Dennoch wird der Auferstandene selten erkannt als Gottheit, deren Hände, Füße und Seite die Zeichen deutlicher körperlicher Versehrtheit tragen. Der auferstandene Christus der christlichen Tradition ist ein behinderter Gott. […] Christliche Theologie, insofern sie leibhaftige Theologie ist oder sogar Theologie der Inkarnation, ruft dazu auf, für Unvorhersehbarkeiten, Sterblichkeit und die Konkretheit von Schöpfung und Leiden einzustehen. […] Diese Begegnung mit dem behinderten Gott war die Quelle der Befreiungstheologie der Behinderung, über die ich in ‚The Disabled God‘ geschrieben habe. Sie ruft sowohl zur Gerechtigkeit als auch zur Wiederentdeckung elementarer christlicher Symbole und Rituale auf. Auch wenn das Christentum manchmal Vorurteile und Ausgrenzungen fortsetzt, kann aus ihm heraus die Vision und das Engagement für eine bessere Gesellschaft, für eine angemessenere Theologie der Menschlichkeit und für ein Konzept von Kirche, in der alle in Fülle teilhaben, entstehen”.

(Eiesland 2001, p. 11)14

Yet not only Jesus but also Paul comes into focus under the lens of dis/ability studies, for he describes his own affliction as a “thorn in the flesh” (2 Cor 12:7) and as “weakness of the body” or as an “illness” (Gal 4:13). These references have been subjected in exegesis to a wide range of diverse interpretations, including a linguistic impediment (e.g., stuttering), migraine, or epilepsy (cf. Collins 2011, pp. 172–74). If one were to ask how such a hypothesis affects our perception of the apostle and his letters, then it could be underscored with Collins that not only Paul’s visions but also, for instance, the impression of his personal presence and his theology of the cross—which emphasizes the weakness of the crucified—come to be seen in a new light (cf. Collins 2011, pp. 175–76). At the same time, aspects of physical disability and illness repeatedly taken up in the Pauline corpus—for example, in the “fool’s speech” (2 Cor 11:2–12:13), the mention of healing as a charisma (1 Cor 12:9, 28ff.), or the exhortation to integration (1 Thess 5:14)—must also be reconsidered (cf. Tilly 2012, pp. 67–80). By contrast, passages such as 1 Cor 11:29–30, where Paul perpetuates the traditional linkage between sin and illness, or Gal 5:12 with its polemical reference to circumcision, continue to call for critical reading (cf. Tilly 2012, p. 71; cf. also Solevåg 2016).

And the perception of the risen one is a central aspect for Paul: In the Pauline corpus, Christ is portrayed in two extremes, “as both ‘disabled’ and ‘powerful.’ He preached not only ‘Christ crucified,’ the ‘disabled’ Christ (‘crucified in weakness,’ 2 Cor 13:4), but also the glorified, powerful Christ—the Christ beyond all disabilities and limitations, including the limitation of death itself (e.g., Rom 6:9)” (Albl 2007, p. 147). Albl explains: “In the ancient world, a crucified person was the ultimate example of ‘disability’. On the one hand, a crucified person was the ultimate symbol of ‘functional limitations’—a person stripped of all ability to do anything for him or herself. With regard to the second aspect of disability, a crucified person bore the ultimate in social stigmatization” (Albl 2007, p. 149). From this, a dis/ability-informed hermeneutic draws the conclusion: “Paul preached ‘Christ crucified’—the ultimate symbol of disability, whether disability is considered as functional limitation or as social stigma. Paul’s gospel called for nothing less than a radical rethinking of the whole concept of ‘disability.’ For it is precisely through this ultimate symbol of weakness and disability that divine power, strength, and ‘ability’ is revealed” (Albl 2007, pp. 157–58). Thus, in Paul, disability is regarded as the very medium that enables the manifestation of the power of the crucified and risen Christ in human beings. For “followers of Christ, in turn, share in his suffering and atoning death. But it is precisely in this shared disability that the way is opened to a completely new way of life, free of disability, sin, and even death itself” (Albl 2007, p. 158).

5. Critique of the Interpretation of Biblical Narratives Across the Centuries

Markus Schiefer Ferrari has demonstrated with great clarity, for the pericope Luke 14:12–14, how profoundly the perception of a text can differ between those directly affected and those not affected. Traditional exegesis identifies the central thrust of the passage as a provocation that runs counter to all conventional value systems: The command to invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (v. 13)—those unable to return the favor and generally not regarded as honorable guests—will bring reward “at the resurrection of the righteous” (v. 14). Such action is thus said to draw the kingdom of God nearer. This or similar readings are widely found, both in scholarly commentaries and in sermons and homiletical reflections.

Drawing on the established interpretive patterns in scholarly literature, Schiefer Ferrari has compiled a list of the strategies that are to be subjected to the critique of a dis/ability hermeneutic. Among them he identifies, for instance: contrasting (people with disabilities are placed in opposition to those without), subsuming (people with disabilities are indiscriminately grouped under a larger category), infantilizing (their skills and competencies are denied), anonymizing (they are not perceived as individuals), stigmatizing (they are assigned negative connotations), and ethicizing (they are instrumentalized within the framework of ethical exhortations) (cf. Schiefer Ferrari 2012, pp. 18–35). This analysis of traditional interpretive patterns makes strikingly evident how little the perspective of those affected has thus far been taken into account in exegesis.

From the standpoint of those affected, this text is, of course, also read as provocation. Dorothee Wilhelm writes that Luke 14:12–14 is “one of the worst texts, perhaps the most hostile-to-the-disabled […] in the Bible. At the expense of me and people like me, hosts are to accumulate spiritual capital; it is about our spiritual exploitation” (Wilhelm 1998, pp. 10–12; cf. also Belser 2017, pp. 111–16).15 She experiences such a vision of the kingdom of God as exclusionary. This perspective went largely unrecognized in the history of interpretation, highlighting the urgent need for change (cf. Schiefer Ferrari 2017; cf. also Gosbell 2018). Particularly the New Testament miracle stories, with their unsettling potential, come into focus under a dis/ability-informed hermeneutic. In order to interpret these texts responsibly for contemporary audiences, exegetes require a hermeneutic appropriate to each interpretive situation, one that prevents unreflective readings which present bodily wholeness as the ideal or even construe corporeality as the very expression of relationality (including to God). If we attempt to interpret biblical texts today, then an awareness of the perspective of those affected by disability and chronic illness must be presupposed as the criterion for every act of interpretation.

6. A Case Study in Dis/Ability-Informed Interpretation of a Miracle Narrative

In Mark 5:25–34 the narrative recounts the case of a woman who has been suffering from a continuous flow of blood for twelve years (v. 25, οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα ἔτη). In the past she had sought healing in vain from physicians—an effort that only resulted in the worsening of her condition (v. 26); she remains ill and is now utterly impoverished. The woman’s situation is precarious—but having apparently heard reports of the events surrounding Jesus (v. 27a), she seeks to change and improve her situation through a personal encounter. Indeed, she even hopes to be “saved” (σωθήσομαι) by secretly touching his garment under the cover of the crowd surrounding him (v. 28). And in fact, the contact with Jesus’ clothing causes the flow of blood to cease, and the woman becomes bodily aware of her healing (v. 29b). Jesus perceives that power has gone out from him through this woman’s touch—despite the pressing crowd around him—and he inquires who has touched him. The woman then confesses her action and explains the situation. Jesus acknowledges her faith and declares: θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου (“Daughter, your faith has saved you; go in peace, and be healed of your suffering”) (v. 34).

In the overall narrative of Mark’s Gospel this story is interwoven with the narrative of the raising of Jairus’ daughter: “This dramatic combination of two stories represents a distinctive Markan literary technique, variously called intercalation, insertion, interpolation, dove-tailing, sandwich, interweaving, interlocking, framing of one story by another, interlude of one story within another, or, in the jargon of narratology, ‘heterodiegetic analepsis’” (Boring 2006, p. 157). Within the scope of this essay, the focus will, however, be placed exclusively on the story of the hemorrhaging woman as a paradigmatic example of a New Testament miracle story.

A number of different interpretations have been proposed for this story. Certain focal points can be identified, yet—as the following citations will demonstrate—these interpretive aspects are sometimes combined in different ways or may even overlap. At the outset it must also be emphasized that the enumeration of the following interpretive possibilities is not intended as criticism or as an attempt to place approaches that do not foreground a dis/ability perspective under scrutiny. Rather, the intention here is to present a selection of helpful and valid interpretations by esteemed colleagues, in order to highlight the already existing spectrum of possible readings, while at the same time noting that the perspective of dis/ability has often not yet played a central role, even though the interpretations at hand frequently provide fruitful points of connection. The following discussion will therefore explore the ways in which the horizons of interpretation might be expanded if a dis/ability-informed reading were to be taken up.

A focus on Christology: A common interpretation understands the pericope as a portrayal of the person of Jesus as both Son of God and Messiah, emphasizing that his identity is revealed through the exercise of divine authority. Within this framework, the focus is placed on the claim that, as the Messiah, Jesus possesses a sovereign and unparalleled authority to heal illnesses, an authority that is both intrinsic to his person and uniquely operative in his ministry. Consequently, the narrative is frequently construed as a testimony to his divine power. In this context, the phrase “the power that goes out from him” is read as an explicit expression of his messianic identity:

The focus is christological. Mark is untroubled by human traits such as having Jesus ask informational questions. Mark’s dialectic of humanity and divinity are woven into this story too. Divine power comes ex autou (“out of him,” v. 30), not di’autou (‘through him’). He himself is the source of the power, not merely its vehicle—he does not pray to someone else but acts on his own. It is not the “power of faith” but the divine “power of Jesus” that heals. She [the hemorrhaging woman, S.L.] does not say to herself, “If I believe strongly enough…” but believes in Jesus’ power to heal. Yet Jesus does not say “My power has healed you,” but “Your faith has saved you.” Neither Jesus’ power nor saving faith exist in isolation from each other, as the next story will show (6:5–6). Jesus himself awakens faith—it is not an independent religious attitude or conviction that can be brought to him.

(Boring 2006, p. 160)

The theological claim of the portrayal of Jesus’ messianic identity is further reinforced when the episode is situated within the broader narrative structure of chapters 4–6, where a series of miracles collectively underscore Mark’s christological argument:

This segment opens with the disciples’ astounded question, “Who then is this?” (4:41), and closes with the Galilean townspeople’s doubting identification, “Isn’t this the carpenter, Mary’s son?” (6:3 AT). In between, his enemies the unclean spirits know their deadly adversary on sight—Jesus, “Son of the Most High God” (5:7)—while his disciples and some equally benighted see in Jesus little but a teacher (4:38; 5:35). Still others, like Jairus (5:23) and the hemorrhaging woman (5:28), intuitively perceive him as one who can help those at the end of their rope. Finally, what is important about Jesus is not a particular title or claim for him. It is, instead, recognizing in him God’s appointed instrument (1:9–11) of a power sovereign over evil, illness, and death.

(Black 2011, p. 147f.)

Yet, on the basis of this pericope, many exegetes articulate Jesus’ identity in ways that are increasingly nuanced and differentiated, thereby enriching the Christological perspective outlined above, by stating, for instance, that “[t]he Jesus who emerges from these stories is one who is compassionate in the face of human suffering and who makes the needs of these sufferers the norm for his action, to the disregard of social taboos and conventions” (Donahue and Harrington 2002, p. 182), or by elaborating:

There were many others on the road with Jesus that day, many of them his disciples. Jesus was on a mission, to save a little girl. There was a good deal of jostling in the excitement as disciples and onlookers jockeyed for position near Jesus. They were astonished when he asked who had touched him; many people had touched him. But Jesus was so attuned to the needs of others that he sensed that someone hurting and in need had reached out to him. It was the difference between elbows and fingertips. Many wanted to be near Jesus, to see if he could really save Jairus’s daughter. Only the woman wanted to be made whole by his power. On the other hand, just as the striking characteristic of the woman is not her physical condition but her faith and determination, so the most impressive thing about Jesus in this story may not be his power to heal but his sensitivity to need. Most of us would have been so focused on the important task at hand that we would not even have sensed the fingertips on our cloak”.

(Culpepper 2007, p. 182f.)

A focus on the woman’s faith: Many interpretations emphasize the significance of faith in this narrative—on the basis of the declaration of faith by the woman, who believes in her healing and “salvation” through touching Jesus, and Jesus’ words: “Your faith has saved you.” In this context, it has been argued that “Jesus’ mighty works in Mark do not stimulate faith. The sequence flows in reverse: first comes faith, fostering conditions in which God’s power to restore, executed by Jesus, can be realized (Mark 5:23, 34a). […] Though her situation is hopeless, the woman bulls her way through the crowd to touch Jesus (5:24b–28)” (Black 2011, p. 149). This connection between faith and healing is frequently drawn, with emphasis placed on the idea that physical healing is primarily understood as a reward for personal faith: “Her faith is recognized as the active subject of the salvific act that takes place in secrecy: neither Jesus nor his power, but faith itself has saved her” (Kahl 2013, p. 284).16 In this perspective, the woman’s action stands at the center of the narrative, rather than the miraculous deed of Jesus:

At this point, the nature of this dynamis remains open to question, as does the precise direction in which it is discharged, and whether, as a result, Jesus has thereby been deprived of this “power.” On a pragmatic level, readers are likely, in accordance with the narrative’s intention, to conclude that this power was transmitted into the woman by virtue of her touch—and that this transmission occurred involuntarily and autonomously, without the deliberate will of Jesus being involved. In this way, the woman would have effectively “compelled” the power inherent in Jesus to act, thereby eliciting a response to her touch. It is thus not Jesus who emerges as the active subject of this miracle, performed in secrecy, but rather the dynamis itself.

(my translation of Kahl 2013, p. 283)17

In the context of this reading, the woman becomes a paradigm of faith. On the one hand, she is interpreted as an example of perseverance, humility, or trust, and, on the other hand, her boldness in approaching Jesus despite her desperate situation of ritual impurity and social marginalization is considered as an encouragement to readers to act in reliance on God’s power:

The most striking feature of the bleeding woman is not her physical condition, but her determination to get to Jesus and her unshakable conviction that she will be healed if she can touch even his cloak. She should be remembered not hiding momentarily in the crowd, nor kneeling at Jesus’ feet, nor going away healed and affirmed, but pressing through the crowd, eyes fixed on Jesus, hand outstretched, reaching for his cloak. Her faith and determination to let her life be touched by Jesus’ power can be an inspiration for the bleeding, broken, and ostracized regardless of their circumstances. Jesus can make you whole. All you have to do is reach out to him.

(Culpepper 2007, p. 182)

A focus on salvation: Another reading connects healing with the forgiveness of sins and situates the episode within the broader context of Mark’s healing narratives. In Mark 2:1–12, for instance, healing is understood not merely as the restoration of bodily health but as a sign that Jesus possesses authority over both illness and sin. Within this interpretive framework, the relationship between physical restoration and spiritual reconciliation is underscored, suggesting that the healing miracles function as tangible demonstrations of Jesus’ divine authority and redemptive mission. Although the narrative under discussion contains no explicit markers directly linking healing and the forgiveness of sins, this interpretation is nevertheless frequently applied to Mark 5:25–34, particularly when attention is drawn to Jesus’ parting words to the woman: ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην (“go in peace”), whereby “peace” (εἰρήνη) may be read as carrying deeper significance and functioning not only as a benediction but as an indication of restored relationship with God. Furthermore, the use of the verb σῴζειν in verses 28 and 34 provides a semantic indicator that the restoration effected here is not limited to the woman’s immediate physical condition, but extends to a deeper, soteriological dimension: she is “saved” in the fullest sense, encompassing both deliverance from her desperate situation and reconciliation within a theological framework of salvation. In this reading, Jesus’ farewell transcends the moment of physical healing and is interpreted as an invitation for the woman to depart as one who “has been restored to a proper relationship with God” (Schweizer 1970, p. 11). This perspective aligns with the motif in Mark’s healing narrative in chapter 2, in which the act of restoration is framed as expressions of divine authority over both illness and sin, thereby situating the healing in a soteriological context.

A focus on restoration—bodily and communal: Within this interpretive framework, healing is often understood as the restoration of a “normal” state of health: the woman was sick, Jesus heals her, and she returns to a “normative” bodily condition, thus framing illness and healing within a dualistic scheme of “sick” versus “healthy.” It is then, for instance, argued: “The point of the story is not that Jewish boundaries have been transgressed or transcended but that the sick woman is healed […]” (Beavis 2011, p. 98). The physical condition is primarily interpreted in medical terms, rather than as a social or spiritual experience. This interpretation is grounded in the description of the illness as μάστιγός (V. 34), translated as “affliction,” “suffering,” or “scourge” (Donahue and Harrington 2002, p. 175), as well as in the explicit indication that the woman perceives her healing physically (v. 29). It has, therefore, also been argued that:

Having experienced the power of God in her own body [the hemorrhaging woman, S.L.] emerges in the story, however, as a woman of daring and initiative. She acts on hearsay about Jesus and pushes her way through the dense crowd. She is sustained by a hope that she can be ‘saved,’ that is, both healed of her illness and able to resume a full life in community. Once she breaks through the physical barrier of the crowd and the religio-social barrier of her ritual impurity and touches Jesus, her illness ceases and she senses the cure in her body.

(Donahue and Harrington 2002, p. 180)

Most commentators observe that the woman’s chronic bleeding rendered her ritually unclean according to Levitical law (Lev 15:25–30), placing her in a state of ongoing exclusion from the religious and communal life of Israel. From this perspective, her healing entails not only the cessation of physical suffering but also her reintegration into the religious community and the restoration of her ability to participate fully in the life of the synagogue and society. Most readings in this interpretive framework acknowledge this social dimension, yet tend to frame it primarily in terms of a return to a restored “normalcy” of bodily health and ritual purity. Such interpretations generally understand the healing as a form of reestablishing the woman’s place within pre-existing social and religious structures, rather than challenging the underlying assumptions about exclusion and purity—a criticism that has been voiced clearly in recent years (e.g., Powell 2005), for this focus thus risks overlooking deeper questions about the nature of inclusion, bodily difference, and the transformative implications of the healing act for social boundaries.

A focus on hermeneutics: From the perspective of feminist hermeneutics, it can be argued that “[t]his is the first of four stories in which women are presented as models for Mark’s audience to emulate (cf. 7:24–30; 12:41–44; 14:3–9 […])” (Beavis 2011, p. 97). The character of the hemorrhaging woman is portrayed in more detail than is usually the case in Markan miracle stories:

Though the manifestation of the power of Jesus is at the center of both narratives, the intercalated narrative is really the woman’s tale rather than that of Jesus. In contrast to virtually every other section of Mark that begins with an action of Jesus, it opens simply with the phrase: “There was a woman ….” Her plight is vividly described (vv. 25–27), and through her soliloquy in v. 28 readers are made privy to her hopes. In fact, she and the Syrophoenician woman (7:24–30) stand out from the characters in other miracle stories as ‘rounded’ or more developed personalities rather than stereotypical characters. Both her dire state and her daring actions emerge from explicit statements and implied perspectives in the narrative.

(Donahue and Harrington 2002, p. 179f)

The parallels between Jairus’s daughter and the woman with the hemorrhage are frequently emphasized, particularly in connection with an interpretation that highlights how Jesus’ actions transform their identities. In both cases, healing is presented not merely as the restoration of life or health, but as a deeper redefinition of their social and personal existence. Jesus restores them from being defined solely in relational or dependent terms—as “daughters”—to becoming autonomous individuals who embody the fullness of womanhood, including the potential to become mothers in their own right. This reading underscores a broader theological and narrative pattern within Mark, whereby healing encompasses both physical restoration and the affirmation of dignity, agency, and social belonging:

The woman and the girl are closely linked by contrasts and parallels: both are female; both are unclean and cannot touch or be touched; both are restored to community, family, and sexuality; both are given life, but also become life-givers: the healed woman can now bear children; the young woman now stands on the threshold of puberty, marriage, and family; both are called “daughter”; both can now be mothers. They are both affected by a time span of twelve years: the one entered her living death the year the other was physically born. On the same day, when everything seemed hopeless, each is delivered into a new life. The verb σῴζω is used of both, and both are saved from more than physical sickness and death. One has the bold faith that dares to touch; the other is absolutely passive and unable to do anything for herself but receives Jesus’ life-giving touch.

(Boring 2006, p. 158)

This perspective already invites a liberation-theological reading of the narrative, a line of interpretation that becomes particularly salient when attention is drawn to the purity laws transgressed by the woman. In her condition of chronic menstrual bleeding—a state that, according to Levitical law, rendered her ritually “unclean” (Lev 12:7; 15:19–30)—she would have been prohibited from approaching others and obligated to avoid transmitting her uncleanness. Within this framework, it is argued that both the story of Jairus’s daughter and that of the woman with the hemorrhage are thematically linked by concerns of ritual purity and the transgression of taboos (Beavis 2011, p. 97). From such a vantage point, Jesus emerges as a figure who disrupts established boundaries: rather than avoiding the woman because of her impurity, he restores her to purity and thereby re-admits her to full participation in the religious and social life of her community (Powell 2005, p. 69).

However, this interpretation presupposes the widely held assumption in many commentaries that the woman’s bleeding necessarily implied ritual impurity. This assumption has been challenged on several grounds. Scholars note that the text does not make explicit the precise origin of her condition and whether it was indeed menstrual bleeding or another form of hemorrhage. If the latter were the case, the conditions prescribed by Levitical purity laws might not have applied, and thus the claim of ritual impurity would be less certain (Beavis 2011, pp. 97–98; Levine 2004, p. 75). This ambiguity invites further reflection, not only on the socio-religious dimensions of the pericope, but also on the extent to which Jesus’ action may be read as an intentional transgression of purity norms or as a deeper statement about inclusion, restoration, and the breaking of social barriers.

A focus on dis/ability: A dis/ability studies perspective brings a different lens to Mark 5:25–34, one that reframes the woman’s condition not primarily as a “problem” to be healed, but as a lived embodied reality that shapes her existence, identity, and social location. This reading does not deny the christological dimensions of the pericope—Jesus’ authority, the revealing of his identity, and the exercise of divine power remain central—but it insists that these must be read alongside the social, embodied, and political realities of disability and exclusion. From this vantage point, the Christology of the story is not only about Jesus as healer or miracle worker, but about Jesus as one who encounters embodied difference and transforms the relational dynamics of inclusion and exclusion.

Traditional readings emphasize that “the power that goes out from him” reveals Jesus’ divine authority (Mark 5:30). From a dis/ability studies perspective, this moment can also be read as an enactment of Christ’s solidarity with embodied marginalization. Healing here is not simply restoration to an able-bodied “norm,” but an act of recognition and relation. Jesus attends to the woman’s suffering precisely by naming her touch—by calling attention to her agency—and thereby affirming her as a whole, active participant in the encounter. This reframes Christology: Jesus’ identity as Messiah emerges not solely in terms of sovereign authority over illness, but as Messiah as one who enters into the life of the other—who encounters embodiment not as a “deficiency” to be erased, but as a reality to be respected and transformed. This is consistent with the narrative emphasis on Jesus’ attunement to need: he senses not “elbows” in the crowd but the fingertips of one reaching toward him (see Culpepper above). In dis/ability theology, this sensitivity reframes the divine power revealed in the pericope: power exercised not in domination, but in relational attunement to embodied vulnerability.

A dis/ability-informed reading deepens liberation-theological reflections on purity by insisting that the very category of “purity” itself can function as a mechanism of exclusion that parallels ableist logics. Just as purity laws set boundaries around who belongs in the community, so too do ableist norms define who is considered “whole” and “worthy” of participation. The woman’s chronic bleeding thus represents not only a medical condition but a sociocultural marker of exclusion. Her condition marks her as an “other”—not only ritually impure but socially marginalized, inhabiting a liminal space outside full participation in the religious and communal life of Israel—if the bleeding is interpreted as a hemorrhage governed by the prescriptions of Levitical purity law. Her story, then, is not only about bodily restoration but about boundary crossing: Jesus reconfigures what it means to belong. His healing is an embodied christological claim in that the kingdom of God breaks into the world not by reinstating normative boundaries of bodily health and purity, but by disrupting those boundaries and reimagining belonging.

Many readings center the woman’s faith as the decisive element in her healing. A dis/ability studies perspective both affirms and complicates this. The woman’s persistence—“she came in the crowd behind him and touched his cloak” (Mark 5:27)—is indeed an expression of faith, but it is also an embodied assertion of agency in a context where her bodily condition renders her marginal. Her touch is an act of claiming presence and efficacy in the face of exclusion. Dis/ability hermeneutics reframe “faith” here: faith is not simply a subjective internal disposition, but a public embodied act that challenges ableist and purity-bound exclusions. Her reaching out is a form of embodied resistance—a claim to be seen, touched, and restored not merely to health but to community and recognition.

From this perspective, Jesus’ Christology is revealed in the ethics of his encounter. Healing is not only a demonstration of divine power but an enactment of the kingdom’s logic of radical inclusion. It is a kingdom in which the marginalized are embraced, boundaries of exclusion are dismantled, and bodily difference is not erased but transformed into a mode of belonging. This opens a fresh christological claim, namely that Jesus is Messiah not only because he heals, but because he redefines the relationship between ability, embodiment, and belonging. His identity is revealed not in restoring conformity to normative ability, but in affirming the dignity of the disabled body and inaugurating a world in which difference does not equal exclusion.

This dis/ability-informed reading challenges traditional dualisms of “sick/healed” and “abled/disabled.” Healing here is not simply the removal of difference, but the restoration of relational wholeness and communal belonging. “Go in peace, and be healed of your suffering” (Mark 5:34) becomes not a statement of return to a former bodily condition, but a transformative affirmation of a new way of existing in community. From this vantage point, the christological significance of Mark 5:25–34 lies in the revelation of a Messiah whose saving work is bound up with transforming social and embodied orders of exclusion. Jesus does not merely offer a cure; he offers a vision of embodied salvation, where faith, touch, and belonging intersect in a radical reordering of life.

7. Dis/Ability-Informed Approaches as a Necessary Extension of Traditional Hermeneutics

In conclusion, the present study has sought to demonstrate that a dis/ability-informed hermeneutic significantly enriches the interpretation of New Testament texts by illuminating the cultural, ideological, and theological assumptions embedded within them. This approach exposes how deeply notions of normality, bodily wholeness, and social conformity are woven into the biblical narratives and the history of their reception. By foregrounding the experiences of people with disabilities—both in antiquity and today—a dis/ability-informed reading challenges exegetes to reconsider interpretive habits that have long gone unexamined. Such a hermeneutic neither rejects the New Testament’s healing stories nor seeks to neutralize their transformative potential. Rather, it aims to recover their critical edge, discerning both the liberative impulses of the texts and the norms that continue to function in exclusionary ways.

Furthermore, the investigation has shown that the integration of perspectives from those directly affected by disability fundamentally reshapes the theological landscape. Christological reflection, for instance, takes on new contours when the risen Christ is understood as the “disabled God,” whose wounded body becomes a locus of divine solidarity and a redefinition of perfection. Pauline theology, too, acquires new resonance when weakness and bodily limitation are recognized not as deficits to be overcome but as the very medium through which divine power is revealed. Attending to these dimensions allows for a more inclusive theological imagination—one that affirms embodied difference as part of the diversity of creation and resists the traditional conflation of disability with sin, deficiency, or exclusion.

Finally, the case study of Mark 5:25–34 has illustrated how a dis/ability-informed interpretation can expand, complicate, and deepen existing exegetical approaches. While historical-critical, narratological, and theological readings yield valuable insights, they often overlook the sociocultural implications of impairment and the lived realities of those who identify with the hemorrhaging woman’s vulnerability and marginalization. When her story is read through the lens of dis/ability studies, new interpretive possibilities emerge—ones that highlight agency rather than passivity, identity rather than deficit, and relational restoration rather than mere normalization. Ultimately, a dis/ability-informed hermeneutic invites contemporary interpreters to cultivate greater attentiveness to human diversity, to question inherited norms, and to interpret biblical texts in ways that foster justice, dignity, and authentic participation for all.

A hermeneutic informed by dis/ability studies begins from the recognition that the binary categories of “disabled” and “normal” are socially, medically, and/or culturally constructed, and it brings this awareness into the interpretation of biblical texts. Such a hermeneutic demands an interpretation that explicitly acknowledges the sociocultural and sociohistorical attribution of traits and identities, as well as the discrimination of individuals based on bodily difference. In doing so, the texts are recognized as a basis for the production and consolidation of scientific, cultural, and social notions of difference within a society and thus as the basis for a narrative construction of disability as a negative category of difference (Schiefer Ferrari 2012, p. 41).18 The history of interpretation of biblical texts must therefore be read critically in this light. The approach of dis/ability studies offers a corrective to conventional exegesis by providing a hermeneutic aimed at deconstructing the conceptions and power structures that have been established over centuries. Its goal is to undermine the foundations of stigmatization and discrimination, as well as the rendering invisible of individuals who do not conform to the socioculturally constructed ideals of normalcy and autonomy. At the same time, it seeks to pave the way for a dis/ability-informed, inclusive reading of the texts.