Autism Consecrated

Category: The Way of Saint Thorlak

  • Our Stories: Connections to God Through One Another

    Our Stories: Connections to God Through One Another

    RESOURCE LIBRARY UPDATE:

    In the three months since Autism Consecrated put out the call for presentations, we have noticed something interesting.  In the same way most of what we do tends toward the personal, the human and the deeply subjective, so too has our pursuit of assembling a symposium on autism and spirituality.  Our in-person event, “Autism Through the Eyes of God” never made it past the first planning meeting, thanks to the worldwide pandemic.  Our next thought was to shift our focus to the online platform, sending out an open call for presentations which we intended to curate and post in a freely accessible resource library on our website.  The result?

    Barely anything.

    But in the meantime, we have engaged behind the scenes of the website in multiple conversations about autism, spirituality and disability theology which keep coming back to the same theme: OUR STORIES.

    In the broad scheme of looking at autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ, there is no formula to disseminate, no paradigm to discuss, other than that of merely being human.  There is nothing more fundamental to building an inclusive spirituality than to be with each other and enter into one another’s stories.  The act of being-with invites us to draw closer through empathy and mutual vulnerability, and to experience God’s presence – first in one another, then in our midst, and then in the depths of our own heart.

    Anything beyond this runs the risk of being formulaic, impersonal and not able to fit the actual needs of the person in front of us… or the needs we ourselves have.

    We have known this since the inception of the Mission of Saint Thorlak and its expansion into Autism Consecrated.  We have often repeated our catch-phrase when asked what is needed in our churches to accommodate autistic people: “less programming, more relationship.”  Likewise, when I was offered the task of writing St. Thorlak’s biography, I opted to tell his story as a person rather than give another academic treatment of his achievements or attempt to parse out those aspects of historical record which suggest he had autism.  Historical fact is relevant, but in presenting St. Thorlak as a man to whom we can relate even eight hundred-plus years after his lifetime, it seemed most relevant to simply tell his story.  What good are facts without a personal reason for wanting to know them?  That same question applies to any and every person, autistic or not, who approaches our faith communities.  What good is gathering facts, diagnostic labels, symptoms, needs, accommodations – without a personal reason for wanting to know them?  Chances are, if we get to know the whole person first, some of those other facts quickly become superfluous, even if that flies in the face of what we have been told are “best practices to follow in helping autistic people.”

    In truth, we hoped to gather essays and video presentations discussing these points.  It hasn’t happened.  We did, however, receive a number of submissions of personal stories, which is, frankly, exactly perfect.

    For the academics among us (including myself, I confess), there are discussions and academic papers in the field of disability theology which are accessible in book format, formal presentations and websites online.  We are striving to continuously maintain and add titles of interest in our Further Reading section, to keep those conversations going.  Furthermore, we actively welcome reaching out to other like-minded groups and individuals for dialogue, discussion and input to our resources.  One such organization, the Kairos Forum, is headed by Cristina Gangemi, whose research ties directly in with the point we are making.

    And so, once again, we extend to everyone here a call to contribute.

    Wanted: OUR STORIES – How have we encountered God?  What helps, or hinders, us from encountering God in our daily lives, or our faith communities?  How would we describe our spiritual lives?

    Format: However we best share ourselves.  Words, visual art, music, or any other channel of expression.

    What to do: Send them to Autism Consecrated along with a signed Release Form (required for any submission to be posted).

    We will begin posting stories soon where our Resource Library would have been.  We look forward to hearing from you!

  • Thorlak of Iceland: Apostle of Autistic Theology

    Thorlak of Iceland: Apostle of Autistic Theology

    by Aimée O’Connell

    We are nine days away from celebrating the summer feast day of St. Thorlak, and the Catholic Church in Iceland is taking this time to observe the Novena of St. Thorlak at the conclusion of each weekday Mass at the Cathedral of Christ the King in Reykjavik between now and July 20.  The text of that Novena is available for daily prayer on our website.

    Autism Consecrated references St. Thorlak throughout all that we do, starting with our tagline, “Living the Way of Saint Thorlak.”  An entire section of our website is dedicated to the ways his life inspires and directs our work and the manner in which we strive to live, autistically, in the Body of Christ.

    Many have asked why we turn to Saint Thorlak before some of the other saints who appear autistic, or whose devotional specialty centers around matters of behavior and mental health.  Thankfully, there is no competition between and among the saints.  The holy women and men of God are all on the same team, and it is impossible to have too many benefactors praying for us.  What sets St. Thorlak apart for us is the way he lived in the time he did.  Thorlak was a child prodigy groomed by medieval Iceland’s political elite to be someone of power, both through his academic superiority and the offices he attained within the Catholic Church.  While he never denied his achievements, he considered them a reflection of his love of God and a reminder of his duty to share that love with everyone, equally, regardless of social status.  He steadfastly held to doing what was morally right, to the detriment of his political security.  His deep love of theology also lent itself to a more contemplative lifestyle, and thus he was further misunderstood by his fellow clergy who, like all Icelanders of that time, placed top priority on that which was practical and concrete.  It is not difficult to see why a life structured around prayer might seem foolish in twelfth-century Scandinavia, where physical survival depended on daily labor and economic survival on favorable political connections. Yet, Thorlak’s love of theology, coupled with a child-like air of wonder, made him the kind of priest whose mere presence drew people closer to God and the practice of their faith.  How?  He was physically weak and a poor speaker, easily ridiculed by political rivals who more closely resembled their Viking ancestors – but Thorlak was not ashamed of his marginality.  Rather, he consecrated it to God, offering that very weakness to Divine Love.  His accomplishments, and his sainthood, are the rich fruits of that contemplative life mocked by his contemporaries.

    Iceland is especially blessed to have Thorlak as its patron saint, and the autistic community worldwide is likewise blessed to know his story and example.  Holy Saint Thorlak: Pray for us!

  • The Pastoral Needs of Autism: Healing Prayer

    The Pastoral Needs of Autism: Healing Prayer

    by Aimée O’Connell

     

    To those expecting this post to contain words meant to step in and undo anyone’s autism diagnosis, we apologize: our subtitle this week begins with a gerund, not an adjective.  We aim to suggest ways our manner of prayer might itself be healed.

    Why?  Ask any autistic.  There are few things more alienating than hearing from members of our faith community that we are broken or unacceptable as we are.  Yet many prayers for autism purport to fix what the community finds wrong in us… to cure us of the things that seem frightfully different… to imagine what we want for ourselves, without asking us if that is correct.

    This is not to say that intercessory prayer is wrong.  On the contrary!  Praying for one another is a beautiful and life-giving aspect of community and belonging.  Likewise, it is unlikely to ever be without need of prayer, in one way or another.  Prayer, in its purest form, is both conveyance of gratitude for and acknowledgement of our interdependence as a faith community.  But more often than not, autistic people (and many others with disabling conditions) hear how little our community knows us in the prayers offered on our behalf.  Not only is it disheartening to be so overtly misunderstood, but it is starkly marginalizing.

    In fairness: Yes, there is a time and a place to pray for reversal of illness, for recovery of wellness and for remission from the kind of suffering that impairs our quality of life.  Yes, it merciful to pray for those experiencing pain or distress.  Sometimes, the anxiety and sensory overload secondary to autistic wiring falls under that category, to be sure.  But then, our prayer ought to focus on our merciful wish to relieve distress, and not to condemn the person for being distressed in the first place.  To wit: “Heavenly Father, come to the assistance of this person in their hour of need” upholds the person’s dignity within the community, as does, “… heal this person of that which causes them pain.”  Contrast that with, “… remake this person in Your image to be whole once more” and “… heal this person of the autism which imprisons them,” and you have a declaration of unfitness in the community, condemning a neurological type which, by itself, is neither physical disease nor mental disorder.

    The following questions are meant to help illuminate the spirit in which we might offer prayer, regardless of who we are or what our particular conditions might be.

     

    • Does our prayer focus on alleviating any discomfort or dissatisfaction WE FEEL, or is it focused on needs expressed by the person we are praying for?
    • Does our prayer PRESUME TO KNOW what the person wants us to pray for, or is our prayer based on actual, known, expressed needs of this person?
    • Does our prayer echo GENERALIZATIONS we have heard about a particular condition, or does it reflect how we know this person as a unique individual?
    • Is our prayer rooted in any FEAR or DREAD of the situation? Is this fear or dread ours, or the person’s?
    • Does our prayer surrender to asking God what is best for the person, or does it seek to define what WE think would be best?
    • Would the words of our prayer be viewed as uplifting in love and dignity, or listing our grievances and pity, when heard by the person we pray for?
    • Does our prayer portray the person as a Beloved Child of God, “fearfully and wonderfully made”? Or, does it presume fault or defect?
    • Does our prayer reflect our gratitude for the gifts this person brings to the community, or to the burdens we feel from this person’s struggles and needs?

     

    May these thoughts guide us on our journeys toward healing the way we pray… for ourselves, for others, and for our community.