Autism Consecrated

Category: The Anchorite

  • Autistic men and the priesthood: Welcoming embrace, or grudging tolerance?

    Autistic men and the priesthood: Welcoming embrace, or grudging tolerance?

    Anchorite

    by Father Mark P. Nolette

    Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.

     Luke 1:1-4 (NRSV Catholic translation)

    Recent days have seen a strong interest among the autistic Catholic cybersphere on the topic of autistic men and the Catholic priesthood. This interest has been sparked by a reference to autism in a report published by the McGrath Institute for Church Life earlier this year called Do You Know Them to be Worthy? This led to an article in the National Catholic Register called Autism and the Priesthood: How the Church is Responding.This was soon followed by an article on the Word on Fire website by Mark Bradford called ’Strange Vocations’: A New and Welcomed Conversation About Priestly Eligibility.

    The initial reaction to each of these in the autistic Catholic cybersphere was largely negative, with some notable exceptions. What was more interesting was how some of the negative commentators soon “repented” of their critiques and pronounced these articles “very good” after all. Evening came, and morning followed… the eighth day. What is actually going on here? How should we – not only autistic Catholics, but all Catholics – understand these articles? It is worth noting that neither article, in referencing the McGrath report, looked at the autism issue in the context of the report itself. What was the report about? Why was autism mentioned there in the first place? How does this understanding color how we see the two subsequent articles?

    With these concerns in mind, I have endeavored (like St. Luke) to “investigating everything carefully from the very first”, in order that you, my dear readers, may come to know more fully the truth concerning all these things.  I shall look at the McGrath Report, the Register article and the Word on Fire article and then draw a few general conclusions from all of this.  I do this in the form of an essay or blog post, not as a scholarly thesis or a book (though one could easily write either about this). Some citations may make their way into this post, but rest assured that I can support every contention I make here.

    • The McGrath Report

    The McGrath Institute for Church Life, associated with the University of Notre Dame, released a report called Do You Know Them To Be Worthy? Twelve Proposals For Bishops, Rectors, Seminary Formation Teams and Mental Health Professionals in Assessing the Suitability of Men for Holy Orders earlier this year. The twelve proposals are divided among three sections: (1) proposals aimed at a more effective use of psychological services in the formation process, (2) proposed best practices regarding candidates with special needs, and (3) proposals aimed at supporting chastity and celibacy formation. The report ends with a few general conclusions.  One proposal mentions autism, Proposal 7 in Section 2.

    To understand what the McGrath Report has to say, we need to see it in its context. Its preface makes it very clear: this report has arisen from the need to offer something to help the Church address the clergy sexual abuse crisis. It does not arise from a placid, objective overview of the whole picture. It is a response to a crisis. A second, related purpose in the preface is to offer bishops a means of resisting the temptation to admit poor candidates for ordination merely because of the need for greater numbers of priests. The focus of this report is clearly on psychology. It offers no proposals on assessing the moral or spiritual readiness of candidates for the priesthood unless we choose to reduce these to their psychological components. The idea is to do what is possible to keep sexual predators out of the priesthood, while offering suggestions for the best use of psychological tools for seminary formation. The scope of this report is limited because of these factors. The report says little about the variety of psychological schools/approaches to be found in our country, or how some of these approaches are at variance with Catholic anthropology. Psychology is not monolithic. How does a seminary choose a Catholic psychology?

    It is in this context that the McGrath Report chooses to address the topic of autistic seminarians in Proposal 7. What should we make of this as autistic Catholics? Are the authors of the McGrath Report implying that autistic men have a tendency toward being sexual predators? Or, are we considering autistic seminarians in the light of the need for more priests which is leading dioceses to look in unlikely places, such as autistic men? I think of the movie Glory, which brings us back to a time in the Civil War where the need for more soldiers led the Union Army to allow free blacks and ex-slaves to form a regiment, something that the Army would not have done without the felt need. Should we as autistic people find this reassuring?  Or should we note that autistic people have been finding their way into the priesthood and religious life for a very long time?

    In this context, it is not surprising to note that autistic men are described only in terms of perceived psychological deficits: “reduced empathy, difficulty with social cues, cognitive and emotional rigidity, and impairments in executive functioning among others”. Considering that recent studies have seriously called into question the assumptions about empathy and rigidity given here (at least), seeing such statements repeated in a report of 2026 is like seeing a computer manual in 2026 telling us how to use our 640k of RAM!  On the other hand, the Report then makes this statement: “Here it is important to acknowledge that these traits can appear in any given candidate, not just those on the ASD spectrum.” (emphasis theirs) If I had my way, that line would be engraved into the formation process of every seminary and religious community.  Autistic people have been more often victims of rigidity and lack of empathy than the source of either.

    One example of this is a statistic in this report stating that 57% of bishops in a recent survey said they would be concerned about welcoming a “high-functioning” autistic man as a seminarian, and 20% would not accept such a man as a candidate for Holy Orders. A thought experiment: change “high-functioning autistic man” to “black man” or “Latino man” and see how that goes over.  It’s quite encouraging to note that one out of five bishops think that I should never have been a priest.

    We might conclude this section by asking whether speaking of autistic seminarians under the title of “Do You Judge Them To Be Worthy?” and not speaking of, say, narcissistic seminarians, places autistic seminarians in too harsh a light?

    • The National Catholic Register Article

    On August 20, the National Catholic Register published an article by Matthew McDonald called Autism and the Priesthood: How The Church is Responding. The McGrath Report is cited in this article as one of its inspirations, along with the increase of autism diagnoses in recent decades. One of the strengths of this article is that McDonald interviewed three autistic priests (including myself) and quoted them in the article. It is still rare to see things written about autistic people in the Church that actually consult autistic people. This is true even though that it makes as much sense as a Catholic writing an article about Buddhists without consulting any Buddhists beforehand.

    Now, since this is a fairly short newspaper article, we can’t expect a great deal of depth. The article touches on a number of important points. However, some things stand out as in need of further comment. The other autistic priests (besides myself) who were interviewed for the article stated that they did not believe that they could do well in parish ministry. Was this because of their autism, or simply because they are in religious orders that do not necessarily have the charism of parish ministry?

    Then there’s the elephant in this room – the way the article begins. We read of a deacon in a seminary who is described as an “expert in treating autism” who notices that an autistic seminarian genuflects “like a toy soldier” and sees a problem here, though the seminarian does not. Rather than recommend that the seminarian be asked to leave, we are told, the deacon works with the seminarian so that the seminarian’s genuflections become fluid so that this evidence of his autism becomes invisible. This episode shows an astonishing lack of empathy toward the autistic seminarian. Many autistic Catholics reacted very strongly to this episode online. Moreover, I am a canonist. I know of no rule that states that a seminarian who genuflects awkwardly is unqualified for Holy Orders. Why is autism portrayed as such an embarrassment that its effects must be hidden? Why is the possibility that someone, somewhere might find that seminarian’s autism “upsetting” more important than the autistic seminarian’s health or holiness? Why is the focus here on behaviorist solutions when behaviorism aligns poorly with Catholic anthropology? At the very least, this shows how far we still are in actually seeing autistic people as real people.  We wouldn’t treat others on this way; only some of the “disabled”. Who really are the disabled? Who is really lacking in empathy?

    • The Word on Fire Article

    On August 31, an article called ‘Strange Vocations’: A New and Welcomed Conversation about Priestly Eligibility, written by Mark Bradford, was posted on the Word on Fire website. Mark Bradford was appointed as Word on Fire’s Fellow for Persons with Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities in 2023. I note this because this position covers a great deal of territory. Mark Bradford is well-intentioned, but one cannot escape the sense when one reads his articles that he is learning on the job.

    One example of this can be seen as he begins this article. He speaks of St. John Paul II’s apostolic exhortation Pastores Dabo Vobis as introducing a “new” area to be addressed in seminary formation: human formation. Having been in seminary in the 1980’s and knowing many priests ordained then (and before), I can safely say that “human formation” existed in seminaries even then!

    Bradford goes on to summarize the McGrath Report. This article seeks to continue the conversation that the Report started. Bradford gives a decent summary of the Report but does not note the context (the clergy sexual abuse crisis) that gave rise to the Report. He notes the Report’s language in referring to autism, ADHD and other conditions as “significant formative deficits”. The language of “deficits” is not immediately questioned, but then Bradford does an interesting thing. He makes reference to a book by Dr. Amy Richards called Disability in Classical Education, a term Dr. Richards uses (strange vocations) and some of St Augustine’s writings on what we would today call disabilities. What Bradford is trying to do is to move the discussion from psychology and deficits to theology and giftedness. His description of disability as revelatory of our mutual vulnerability is not new for those of us who are charter members of Disability, Inc., but we’d like to see more reflections along this line in Catholic publications. Bradford uses the term “cult of normalcy”, which actually comes from the writings of Thomas Reynolds. I’d love to see him explore that in more detail.

    However, as an autistic person, I have some issues with Bradford’s article. He cites Dr. Michael Waddell’s work on autistic identity. Dr. Waddell is not autistic.  Would you have an agnostic writing on Catholic identity? Am I saying that only an autistic person can write about autistic people? By no means! Nevertheless, I am calling out the attitude lurking behind such things all too often. Let me illustrate. Leon Van Ommen, who wrote Autism and Worship, tells us in his preface that he is not autistic. However, he has done his best to listen to autistic people and is open to correction if he gets anything wrong. Dr. Waddell’s background is philosophy. He has no training in autistic things. Nor is he autistic. He, like other non-autistic “experts”, come across as saying, “We know. You autistic people don’t know, so shut up and listen to us.”  I see no intellectual humility here. Therefore, I see no wisdom.  That is a serious problem.

    Then, there is this statement from Mark Bradford: “Presumably, those who apply (he means autistic men who seek to be seminarians) would understand the challenges they would face as autistics and be willing to assume the possible burden of masking some behaviors in order to serve in a pastoral role”. I’m sorry, but it is irresponsible to toss out such a statement without some careful explanation and reasoning behind it. Masking, as such, has been clinically shown to be harmful to autistic people in the long run. Granted that not all behaviors belong everywhere. But this must be handled carefully, by people with real empathy and love who actually get it. The potential for abuse, considering how vulnerable autistic people are, is very high. Incidentally, has anyone asked whether an extrovert should mask his outgoing personality so as not to offend an introvert? No? Why is that, pray tell? Why are autistic people held to a standard that is not applied to anyone else?

    • Concluding Thoughts

    With Mark Bradford, I can see some encouraging signs that there is more open discussion about autistic men and a priestly vocation in Catholic circles than there has been. However, in fairness I must note that some of our Protestant brethren have been discussing similar issues in their own denominations for decades. One can point to the Centre for Autism and Theology at the University of Aberdeen as one example. However, we must also realize that a similar discussion is just as needed about autistic people and a vocation to religious life, or the permanent diaconate, or (dare I say) marriage.

    Moreover, the focus in many of these discussions remains to an excessive degree on the psychological deficits of autistic people which may negatively impact their ability to serve as priests or religious. Such a focus is misguided. The ideal or perfect candidate does not exist and has never existed. Moreover, though we tend to view the individual priest in isolation, official statements such as Presbyterorum Ordinis (Vatican II) see the priest as a member of a presbyterate that serves the diocese or religious community as a presbyterate, regardless of the individual ministries of each priest (PO 3). The model here is clearly the Church as the Body of Christ, where each member has a place, no member can say that they don’t need the others, and where those whom the world sees as “weak” are given higher honor.

    Another unaddressed issue is how many proposed therapies for autistic people (adults as well as children) remain rooted in the behaviorist approaches first championed by Dr. Lovaas in the 1960’s and which remain common in schools even today. If one wishes to see a contemporary assessment of the failure of such practices, check out this article from the Denver Post.

    Most importantly, little or no consideration is given to those qualities that autistic men bring to the priesthood precisely because they are autistic. Let this quote from Presbyterorum Ordinis 3 illustrate the point: “(Priests) are to live as good shepherds that know their sheep, and they are to seek to lead those who are not of this sheepfold that they, too, may hear the voice of Christ, so that there might be one fold and one shepherd. To achieve this aim, certain virtues, which in human affairs are deservedly esteemed, contribute a great deal: such as goodness of heart, sincerity, strength and constancy of mind, zealous pursuit of justice, affability and others”. With the possible exception of affability (depending on how you define that), every one of these virtues has been recognized in the literature as a common virtue of autistic people. Again, I see no place where awkward movements or stimming are listed as impediments to Holy Orders.

    Finally, there is the Church’s bottom line. If these autistic men are truly called to the priesthood, who has called them? Do we not still believe that the Church is the Lord’s and that He it is Who builds it? Doesn’t the Lord know who He is calling? Do we need to second-guess Him or find some rationale to get rid of inconvenient people? Autistic people can at times be inconvenient. We see through “spin” very often and recognize that the Emperor has no clothes, and for our efforts we are labelled as “rude”. We speak for justice and truth and are accused of “black and white thinking”. Yet, we see that our accusers are more “black-and-white” when it comes to us than we have ever been. We see that people have already made up their minds about us before we say a word, but we are supposedly the rigid ones. If the Lord has chosen to call people like us to the priesthood and religious life, He has His reasons. Who would dare to argue with Him? Yet some do, indirectly. Could it be a sign that Church leadership is at risk of becoming “disabled” in its attitudes and that one way to reach them is to send the Church “disabled” priests who know well that their effectiveness comes from the Lord and not from their own ability? Do we really trust psychology more than grace?

  • When diagnosis and treatment are not enough

    When diagnosis and treatment are not enough

    by Aimée O’Connell, T.O.Carm., and Fr. Mark Nolette

     

    Maybe you’ve sat with a doctor or therapist and gone over questionnaires. Maybe you’ve done your own research in books and online. Maybe it’s for your own needs, and maybe it’s for a loved one. But here you are, with the name of something concrete – Autism, ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar, Borderline, OCD, or similar and related diagnoses – along with a list of best practices, a plan for therapy, maybe even a prescription. It is a relief to know what you’re dealing with, and to have an outline of how to deal with it.

     

    Then, you’ve got your faith to get you through. You’ve got church, the sacraments, a support network of wonderful, caring people, and a wealth of spiritual reading and podcasts to encourage you. You might have a gratitude journal and some Scripture quotes at hand, and inspirational books by renowned authors who remind us that with God, all things are possible, and we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

     

    So, why isn’t it working?

    Why do we still feel empty?

     

    Two possibilities: Burnout, and spiritual impostor syndrome.

     

    “Burnout” here is not the idea that we need a vacation or that we’ve gone too long without having fun. “Burnout” here refers to neurological exhaustion, below the conscious level, which is not something we can manipulate with willpower or even completely prevent, if we are neurodivergent. Our bodily processing systems run 24/7, and anything we do that requires executive functioning (which is… everything) will add to the neurological processing load. Negotiating our sensory environments, both by having to filter out the excess stimuli imposed by our surroundings and by having to seek baseline stimuli in places we are forced to be still, contribute to that load. As our executive functioning begins to suffer, our capacity to be chipper and peaceful diminishes, and criticism from those around us increases. Burnout is whenever our load has been maxed out longer than we have been able to keep up. Basic neurological rest, a necessity for neurodivergent people, is portrayed as a luxury in the minds of most people, and not something we are typically allowed to do until after burnout begins.

     

    In short: For neurodivergent people, depression and anxiety (and other mental health crises) are more often symptoms of burnout than standalone diagnoses.

     

    To use an analogy, physical pain is often a symptom of something more complex at work. We can diagnose pain and treat it, and even take steps to prevent it, but if there is something beneath that pain – like, say, cancer – then treating the pain alone will not solve the problem, and our health will continue to deteriorate.

     

    Here are some specific reasons why focusing only on depression, anxiety, and other mental health crises, is problematic when burnout is at play.

     

    • Most therapy techniques and self-help books on depression, anxiety and mental illness, including spiritual books, describe and employ behavioral approaches which require conscious control over our emotions and motivation – giving no thought to the health or capacity of our neurological infrastructure.

     

    • Any coaching, advice, therapy or self-help/spiritual book ought to account somewhere for the fact that moods, motivation and executive functioning depend on the health of our neurological infrastructure. Some do get there eventually, but usually it’s after a lot of focus on and unpacking surface symptoms, behaviors, and “attitudes.” Meanwhile, our neurological burnout continues unaddressed and depletes us (or adds to the deficit) even further.

     

    • Expecting anyone to feel gratitude, maintain motivation, or make resolutions when our neurological infrastructure is maxed out is unrealistic, a recipe for failure, and potentially harmful.

     

    • Neurological exhaustion is treatable with significant lifestyle adjustments and accommodations which need to be available at all times, not just until “things get better.”

     

    To date, I know of no Catholic or any spiritual resources specifically addressing neurological exhaustion and burnout, or its effects on our spiritual lives. (Please, tell me if they are out there and I have missed them!) Which then leads to the next point: Spiritual impostor syndrome.

     

    Neurodivergent people have very likely grown up being corrected and taught how to act in ways that are prescribed to and imposed on us, not spontaneous or authentic. We learn social scripts, and how to suppress big emotions, and how to behave well enough to be accepted by others. The cumulative effects of masking are just now beginning to be researched, and the impacts are dire. Human beings are not meant to follow scripts, nor are we meant to do things to earn other people’s approval – but this has been the thrust of most therapies and therapeutic techniques, even those best-intentioned, and it is what most people think of as “the right thing to do.”

     

    A lifetime of masking our authenticity and working for other people’s approval takes a big spiritual toll. “Impostor” syndrome is what happens when scripts are “imposed” on us by people in charge. Their love or affirmation of us is entirely dependent on whether we follow their scripts. These scripts do not reflect our true needs, but nearly always reflect the “needs” of the people in charge to control and manipulate us. As a result, even when we follow the scripts and earn the approval of these people, we feel empty and hollow. We feel like impostors. If this was our experience as children, we are very likely to imagine God as also imposing scripts on us that have no relevance to who we really are and that His love and acceptance of us are wholly dependent on our following the scripts.  It’s what happens when the scripts become God.

     

    How, then, do we take ourselves to prayer before God? Can we trust that we do not have to earn His love, too? Can we face God after we have unknowingly cooperated with our own shunning, cloaked in the idea that our neurological needs and expressions need correction (or that our traits are loathsome, bothersome, too much, not enough)? How can we forgive ourselves, and those whom we trusted?

     

    How can we trust God?

     

    Sometimes we might also need to ask –

     

    Where has God been in all of this?

    Why did God make me this way, only to let everyone tell me I’m defective?

    Haven’t I suffered enough? Haven’t I already died to myself, over and over and over, ad nauseam?

    If I am beautifully and wonderfully made, why am I still not good enough?

     

    Any true “therapy” that deals with “impostor” syndrome begins with a fundamental sense of being loved by God that cannot be contained by or flow from any script. It is analogous to what happened to Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus. In the light of the love and grace of God, the scripts lose their power as their inadequacies become evident. The person who has been so touched by God will then need some time to rethink and reprocess his or her whole life in the light of the knowledge of being loved by a gracious God!

     

    No spiritual resource on depression, anxiety, mental illness or even neurodivergence can be adequate by itself without looking squarely at these questions and entrusting the answers to God’s merciful love.

    In the meantime…

    Yes: We are loved by God.

    Yes: We are beautifully and wonderfully made.

    No: People may not have steered us in the right direction, as far as how we can thrive as neurodivergent people. That is only just beginning to come into the mainstream narrative. Good intentions are still good, but methods can also be re-examined and revised based on what we know better now.

     

    No: Our moods or executive functioning capacities are not indicators of our spiritual skills, or our goodness as human beings, or our belovedness by God.

     

    Yes: Gratitude journals are good things. But, No: They are not the hinge on which our mental health rests. When we are neurologically rested, we have the capacity to be grateful for many things. When we are neurologically exhausted, we need to focus first on restoring our neurological health, and then we can both think about and authentically feel gratitude. Imposing it on us, however it may be packaged, makes us… impostors.

     

    To be continued.

     

     

  • As we mourn in lonely exile here

    As we mourn in lonely exile here

    by Aimée O’Connell

     

    Autistic theologian Grant Macaskill, speaking on the difference between inclusion and belonging, says:

     

    “To belong, you have to be missed;

    to belong, you have to be named,

    and enjoyed,

    even in bodily absence;

    and your absence has to be acknowledged

    as an absence only from the physical space

    and not an absence from the presence or from the workings of God.”

     

    (Excerpted from The 2023 Scottish Episcopal Institute lecture, “Disabling Norms and Acentering Churches: Autism, Long Covid and the Return of the Old Normal” – October 26, 2023)

     

     

    Advent is upon us, and we revisit the liturgical theme of waiting in hope: mournful, weary waiting; darkness, yearning for light; the forgotten, longing to be remembered; the invisible, seeking to be known. Advent is a natural fit for neurodivergent people who are already familiar with “exile” in our ordinary lives. All too often, we feel this separation most acutely from the margins of our parishes and church communities, having wandered there after learning we must check our vulnerabilities at the door in order to gain access, and finding the task insurmountable.

    Armand Léon Van Ommen, a colleague of Grant Macaskill at the Centre for Autism and Theology at the University of Aberdeen, has published a book addressing this problem, Autism and Worship: A Liturgical Theology (Baylor University Press, 2023). What follows here is Fr. Mark Nolette’s review of this book, which also appears on his blog, The Anchorite.

     

    Autism and Worship (A Book Review)

     

    Look down from heaven and regard us

    from your holy and glorious palace!

    Where is your zealous care and your might,

    your surge of pity?

    Your mercy hold not back!

    For you are our father.

    Were Abraham not to know us,

    nor Israel to acknowledge us,

    You, Lord, are our father,

    our redeemer you are named from of old.

    Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down,

    with the mountains quaking before you!

    Isaiah 63:15-16; 19

     

    In a recent survey, nearly a thousand Protestant pastors were asked if people with disabilities would feel welcome in their churches. About 98 percent responded yes, of course they would feel welcome. How could anyone dare to hint otherwise? I know of no similar survey done of Catholic pastors, but I have every reason to believe that the result would be the same. Moreover, nearly every convention or workshop that I have seen advertised on the topic of ministry to disabled people always makes it a point to thank Catholic parish leaders for the splendid work they are already doing in this area. Many parishes like to use hymns such as “All Are Welcome” to bolster this conception. We’re there, or so we are to believe. Our doors are open. Ramps are in place. What else is there to do?

    When we look at statistics from the point of view of autistic people, however, a very different picture emerges. Disabled people attend Sunday Mass less frequently than the typical Catholic. Some people have physical disabilities that make going to church or being there simply too difficult. Many are shut-ins, and have the Eucharist brought to them. Statistics consistently show us that, of all the varieties of disabilities that are out there, autistic people attend Mass (or services in Protestant churches) less often than any other group of disabled people. This is true even though many autistic people are physically capable of going to church.

     

    Why is this? Are autistic people simply too lazy? Are they looking for an excuse to not go to Mass? Do they need to try harder?

     

    Since I became involved with Autism Consecrated, I have seen messages from other autistic people who share their experiences of dealing with parish leadership. The stories are heartbreaking. It takes a great deal of faith to continue to seek a connection with the Church when one is constantly running into cement walls of misunderstanding and being ignored. We would all love it if the Lord would rend the heavens and come down, and thus become our shepherd!

    Some parishes have lighting reminiscent of interrogation rooms. Some turn up their sound systems way too loud. Many parish communities show no patience or empathy for those who have differing needs. Harsh lighting actually causes some of us pain; it disables us so we cannot stay. Loud sound systems do this for others. Still others are overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and the seeming impossibility of meeting all their expectations. Youth ministry groups meet in loud gyms and presume that all teens love noise and physical activity – the kinds of things that have caused autistic teens humiliation before.

    It’s not that we haven’t tried. However, we can’t seem to find the right password to get anyone to listen to us. We propose a sensory friendly Mass and are told that there are too few of us for them to bother with that. Some parishes offer a sensory-friendly room, which is a start, but it keeps autistic folks out of sight and out of mind, and lets everyone else think that all is well. Imagine a family where one child had to eat meals in a separate room, out of sight of the others. Would that child feel like a part of the family?

    How, then, can we have a situation where the overwhelming majority of Church leaders believe that their communities are welcoming, while the majority of autistic people feel most unwelcome no matter what they say or do? How can we feel like we matter to the Church when no one will listen to our genuine needs? When no one even misses us when we are not there, or blames us if we are not there on Sunday?

    Seeking to address such cognitive dissonance, Armand Léon van Ommen offers us his latest book, Autism and Worship. Dr. van Ommen is co-chair of the Centre for Autism and Theology (CAT) at the University of Aberdeen, Scotland. The other co-chair of CAT, Dr. Grant Macaskill, has already given us the excellent Autism and the Church – as much a must-read as this book, Autism and Worship, is for anyone who deals with community worship on any level.

    Autism and Worship is a scholarly work, with plenty of footnotes and an extensive and fine bibliography. At the same time, the book remains readable for most educated laypeople. The writing style is generally easy to follow. Dr. van Ommen is not Catholic, but he cites a number of Catholic authors. He also quotes Vatican II’s Constitution on the Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium. I say this to affirm that there is very little here that is not in harmony with basic Catholic teaching on the Church and the liturgy. In fact, Dr. van Ommen argues that one major factor of the cognitive dissonance that many autistic people feel when it comes to church participation is a refusal to be consistent with the theology and the liturgy that we already claim to believe in.  The other factor is a refusal to listen to and take seriously the stories that autistic people themselves tell.

    Too often, as is the case with other kinds of disabled people, the tendency in church settings (and many other settings) is to talk about autistic people and not with them. This habit is based on a medical approach, describing anything that is common to autistic people as pathological in nature, usually without bothering to hear from autistic people as to what such behaviors actually reflect. Most parish communities use the medical model as a justification in the exclusion of autistic people (passively or actively) instead of personally relating to them. In fact, churches do not need diagnoses, workshops or programs to minister to autistic people; they need vulnerability and compassion. As Dr. van Ommen shows, this goes a very long way.

    This book begins by offering its readers an orientation to help them best understand the issues at hand. The first chapter deals with the need to be sensitive in the language we use to speak of autistic people. It introduces the emerging field of autism theology and introduces stories by autistic people about how they experience liturgy.

    The second chapter wrestles with the nature and definition of autism, showing why the definition has shifted over time. This helps explain the confusion and lack of knowledge about autism today, as many of these explanations of autism exist side-by-side, even in the psychology community. It also shows that there is a real opening for us to speak theologically about autism.

    The third chapter offers an explanation for what has become the major obstacle for Christian communities of all kinds to truly welcome autistic people (and others). The obstacle? Most people have been co-opted by the “cult of normalcy”, a phrase van Ommen gets from Lennard Davis and Thomas Reynolds. They no longer value people according to the Gospel, but according to the dictates of the god Normal and the goddess Average. The argument of this chapter is not unlike that which St. Paul makes to the Corinthians who have become divided because they have forgotten Christ and adopted the ways of the surrounding culture. The argument in this chapter is eye-opening and compelling. Once you see it, you cannot “un-see” it.

    The fourth and fifth chapters are the heart of this book. Here is where Dr. van Ommen makes his argument from philosophy, theology and liturgy. We learn of the French philosopher Gabriel Marcel’s concept of availability. We are led from there to the Christian idea of kenosis (the self-emptying of Christ) and how this makes real availability possible by anyone who graciously lives this out. This kenosis cleanses us from our fear of deviating from the cult of normalcy and emboldens us to embrace a new (or better, the original) definition of who we are as Church, allowing it to shine forth in all its splendor. This, then, becomes the Church that is reflected in its liturgy, for liturgy (among other things) shows the Church who and what it is. If autistic people (among others) are not truly welcomed in liturgy, the Church is not truly itself.

    The sixth chapter tells the story of how one community, the Chapel of Christ Our Hope in Singapore, has been making an effort to truly welcome the autistic people in their midst. This community has about 25-30 autistic members. It tries to live out a theology of availability by listening to autistic people and offering what accommodations it can to help them worship. (It should be noted that such accommodations are not “unusual”, but are no different than wheelchairs, hearing aids, or eyeglasses.) One of the striking things about the experience of this worshipping community is that these accommodations did not involve any change in the structure of the liturgy itself, but were all about changes in the attitudes of the community as a whole and its leaders.

    Who, then, should read this book? Autistic Catholics (and Christians in general) will find this book encouraging. Someone listens; someone gets it. Parish and diocesan leadership should read this book in a spirit of kenosis. There is a group of people they have excluded (knowingly or unknowingly) not only from liturgy but from the overall life of their communities. Repentance and conversion are needed. This is no time to maintain the usual spin. In this sense, this book would be a good read for Advent or Lent. Anyone in any kind of training for ministry should read this book. Anyone who would like to begin to see all this from the angle of their autistic sisters and brothers should read this book.

    In short, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. I found myself pausing at nearly every page to reflect on some statement or insight. Dr. van Ommen says that he is not autistic, but he has modeled what he advocates. He has listened extensively to autistic people. Their voices matter in this book. It shows. Read it!

    – Fr. Mark Nolette