Looking ahead: Easter into April

It is with deep gratitude that we acknowledge the worldwide and encouraging response to our Daily Lenten Prayer Petitions for autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ. We truly thank everyone who has joined us in prayer, and we assure you that you have been instrumental in stirring up grace and new life where it has been greatly needed.

With the Easter season ushering in April, we have the opportunity to take these prayers a step further. If Lent showed us a way through the spiritual desert many of us experience from a lack of understanding and support for our autistic needs, then we have a ready reference in hand to offer our communities during the month dedicated in most places to autism awareness, acceptance and affirmation. As such, we have taken our Lenten prayers and written them so as to be suitable for praying any time, any day, any week, any season. As individuals, we can pray them in sequence, cycling through with renewed resolution each time we begin the set again. As parishes, we might use them specifically during April as a meaningful way to mark Autism Month in the Prayers of the Faithful. As Church, we may reflect on each petition as a way to assess how we are doing, and what we need to do, to support and champion neurodiversity in the Body of Christ. In whatever way the Spirit moves us, may we use these prayers to the glory of God.

Autism Consecrated’s Prayer Intentions are free to download, print, share and use as individuals and groups. May God bless and renew each one of us this April, and beyond!

A Lenten Daily Prayer Calendar to Realize Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ

Jesus, Re-member Us!

Lent necessarily evokes a certain imagery of journey: a voluntary withdrawal to a place of self-scrutiny to shed habits acquired from the world’s false theology of power, utility, and convenience, followed by a going forth with new resolve and better understanding of God’s intended Way. We often refer to this as a pilgrimage to the desert, evoking the literal path taken by Our Lord (and Israel before him) dedicated to prayer, self-emptying and preparation for the mission ahead. Desert life is likewise well-suited to pilgrimage, in that there are few places of concealment. The bright, hot sun starkly exposes who we are and what we carry with us, including aspects of ourselves and our habits which we might prefer stay hidden in our interior shadows; yet we soon realize the necessity of letting go of superfluous cargo if we are to survive the journey. Likewise, the desert’s vast stretches of isolation provide an environment free of diversions which might delay our reckoning. And then, the scarcity of resources reminds us unambiguously of our utter dependence on God, as well as the needs and interdependence of every member of the Body – both literally in our our own physiology, and figuratively in our reliance on mutual support within our communities.

For many autistic people, we are already in the desert. We are isolated, hungry, thirsty, and out of range of communication. We send signals, we explain our needs, we offer our services – but we are not seen, heard, or understood. It very much feels like involuntary exile without a clear or valid reason.

This experience is not unique to autistic people; indeed, the Church itself knows what it feels like to be excluded and isolated from secular society. In similar fashion, the Church communicates the Gospel message in many ways, yet is often not heard or understood. Nobody would argue that the Church is neither valued by contemporary society nor has much influence on public policy or cultural mores. It would be fair to say that the Church today finds itself in a very similar place as regards the secular world as autistic people. Wouldn’t it seem, then, that the experience of autistic people – who are very familiar with this sort of desert living – might be a great asset, and a source of wisdom, to the Church as a whole?

Unfortunately, autistic people are not only exiles from the cult of normalcy at large in the world. We are equally marginalized within the Church, the Body of Christ, by leaders who routinely ascribe to and apply the same standards as those held by that same secular cult of normalcy. A glance through our previous blog posts bears this out all too abundantly. To be fair, there are numerous parishes and dioceses who do take an active interest in supporting neurodivergent needs, and for these, we are truly grateful. We are not suggesting that the landscape is completely barren or bleak. We are, however, painfully aware that there are still many wounds yet to be healed, and many members of the Body who remain in exile from parishes, dioceses and communities who do not see the need to respond. It is to these communities we especially extend this invitation: Join us, this Lent, in our desert. And, to those who are already supporting neurodivergent members in the Body of Christ, as well as all our neurodivergent members far and wide: please, strengthen the Body for this journey with your prayers, too!

The following calendar serves as a map for such a journey. Each Lenten Day offers a prayer petition for pilgrims to draw ever closer to those of us who wait in hope for recognition, for reconciliation, and for our gifts and presence to be found acceptable by the rest of the Body.

On the Cross, the Good Thief – himself an exile from the community – made this prayer: “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your Kingdom.” This Lent, we ask Jesus to re-member us… to restore the exiled parts of His Body with circulation and nourishment and belonging.

Jesus promises “where two or more gather in My Name, I am there among them.” Be assured that this prayer calendar is being prayed by us here at Autism Consecrated. Whoever joins us in our prayer is united with us in Christ, and becomes a vital part of naming – and healing – the unfortunate effects of indifference, misunderstanding and outdated approaches to neurodiversity.  May we pray together: JESUS, RE-MEMBER US!

– Aimée O’Connell, T.O.Carm., and Rev. Mark P. Nolette

Further reading

Waldock, K.E. and Sango, P.N. (2023): Autism, faith and churches: The research landscape and where we go next. Autism and Faith, Vol. 20, No. 1. Retrieved on 2/2/24 from https://ojs.st-andrews.ac.uk/index.php/TIS/article/view/2578/1982.

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2024 Lenten Prayers to Realize Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ 

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2024 Lenten Prayers to Realize Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ 

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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

 

Raise your hand if you’re not here

by Aimée O’Connell

Next time you go to church, look around and get an idea of how many neurodivergent (i.e., autistic and/or ADHD) people are in attendance.  It’s a number you’ll want to know if ever you are asked how your parish might offer sensory supports and accommodations for neurodivergent parishioners.

Right away, the difficulty of such a task becomes evident.  Counting ourself, the number is… one? More, maybe, depending on how many of our family members are with us?  How can we truly tell, without falling back on stereotypes?  Somehow, tabulating any “problem behaviors” we see feels unfair… and yet, this is usually how people begin considering what neurodivergent needs exist in any community.  Catechists can usually pick out the students whose sensory and processing needs don’t work well with the way classes and instruction are expected to run, for instance.  Parishioners learn to recognize which little ones have the most difficulty sitting still and staying quiet during the liturgy.  But that only takes into account the younger members of the parish.  Where would we look for the neurodivergent teens and adults?  Youth ministry? CYO? Bible study? Social ministry and volunteer committees?

Mmm… not exactly.

In many parishes, neurodivergent teens and adults simply do not participate.  Sometimes this is voluntary avoidance on their part… and, sometimes, this is the result of participation being discouraged by the parish.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Sometimes subtly, sometimes directly… sometimes by deliberate omission… sometimes by an accumulation of unkind gestures which finally reach a breaking point.  Sometimes by fellow parishioners, and sometimes by parish staff.

It is not an exaggeration to say that a large portion of people who reach out to Autism Consecrated do so in distress and sorrow after being told, in one form or another, that their sensory needs are a nuisance, a distraction, a burden… or a sign of bad character.  The prevailing belief seems to be that autism and ADHD are childhood conditions, and those parishes offering support and accommodations only do so for children.  Teens and adults are expected to either have no further needs or to meet their own needs for themselves.

How can this be? Is it that parish resources are limited, and what few helps exist must go to the children first?

More often, the reason given is that there aren’t any [or, aren’t enough] teens or adults with special needs to justify further supports. Making accommodations for a small number of adults is considered catering, and nobody wants to give preferential treatment to one or two fussy parishioners. Better they should learn how to cope, like the rest of us.

But, you say, maybe the parish does not yet understand what the needs are, and would do better if they had a better explanation!

You’d think.  But it has also been our experience in hearing story after story that these explanations are anything but helpful.  Many neurodivergent people have taken great pains to describe their needs and find ways to meet parishes halfway in finding accommodations for them to be able to attend liturgies and social events.  The response has been tepid at best and callous at worst.  Teens have been cut from youth group rosters rather than efforts made to adapt existing programs.  Adults have been asked to leave Bible study for asking too many questions or taking too long to respond in small-group sharing sessions.  Priests have given homilies sarcastically asking if people leaving Mass early enjoy their early bird dinners and sporting events, when in fact there are some who have left on the verge of sensory meltdown after enduring overload from the lights, music and pressures of having to suppress their neurodivergent needs.  Ear defenders have been yanked from people’s heads for being disrespectful.  When people have asked for basic accommodations ahead of planning meetings and volunteer events, their messages are not returned, and the meetings go ahead without them – finding them afterward branded as a no-show.

Other times, it’s a Catch-22.  When neurodivergent adults have availed themselves of the supports offered, such as a cry room, they are summarily told these spaces are for children, not to be taken advantage of by bored or restless adults looking for more legroom.  Or, parishes have offered a designated sensory support space for neurodivergent parishioners, only to “borrow” the space during Masses for other purposes, acting surprised when someone wants to use the room that was supposed to be for their needs.  Some parishes offer adaptive First Communion prep and pictorial guides designated for children.  A good start, yes, but when those autistic children have grown into teens, they find that there are no similar supports for participation and sacramental prep as teens and young adults.  For that matter, many parishes have adaptive catechetical resources for young children, but nothing adaptive for RCIA.  (In fact, if you search online for “adaptive RCIA,” the results all point to how to make RCIA accessible to children, not adults).

These are not hypothetical situations.  These have all actually happened… and are actually happening.  Many neurodivergent teens and adults have tried their best to participate but find themselves left out anyway.  Many now simply stay home because the combined demand of participation and fielding criticism is too much.

Recent estimates suggest one in fifty adults may be neurodivergent.  That number is likely too low, as it is extremely difficult for adults to be formally assessed for autism and ADHD, even when they show a majority of the defining characteristics of either or both. Some have proposed that a better estimate  assumes one autistic/ADHD adult for every autistic/ADHD child we know.  (See more in the articles linked at the end).  If that’s the case, it’s safe to say that every parish has at least one person with sensory needs, with the actual number being much higher.

It’s hard to count how many of us there are when parishes keep turning us away.  Where is the spirit of John 18:9, “I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me”?

We must pray all the more that our parishes awaken to the words of Luke 19:10, “The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.”  May we especially apply this to the lost generation of neurodivergent adults.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A sampling of articles for further insight:

 

 

The Urgent Need: Autistic Mission

by Aimée O’Connell

Earlier this week, I referenced a recently published book intended as a field guide for bishops and seminary faculty in guiding and supporting autistic men discerning and responding the call to the priesthood.  As an autistic person, I feel the need to call attention to all that this book represents and its implications for the Church at large.  As a married woman, I am in no way qualified to speak about the priesthood or seminary formation – nor do I intend to.  However, as a member of the laity, I am charged with the same call to holiness and prayer as all my brothers and sisters in Christ.   I am the mother of a son who one day may himself feel a vocational call, if that is God’s plan for him.  I am a member of a Church begging for new vocations, more priests, pleading with Matthew 9:38 that the Lord will send more laborers to the harvest.  I may not be a seminarian, but I most certainly have a stake in the lifeblood of the Church – as is true for all members of the laity, men and women, all ages, all abilities, all neurotypes.

It does not matter who wrote this book or who endorsed it – by name, anyway.  This is not anything personal.  My observations are global, pointing to the big picture, and casting no blame on anyone in particular.  I pray that those reading this will follow likewise in seeing the system view rather than seeking out individuals.  We are all members of this same Body of Christ, with the same mission of actualizing the love of Christ in the world we live in.

In short: This book, Autism and Holy Orders, may fairly be characterized as a de facto policy statement of sorts, written in conjunction with and on behalf of Church leadership.  It makes public the working model which the Church holds on what autism is and how it is to be lived.  It bears the seals of approval by representatives of the Catholic hierarchy as well as those of Catholic religious orders, Catholic academia, Catholic seminaries, the Catholic diaconate and the secular field of clinical psychology.  This takes in a very wide swath of predominantly Catholic representation from on high, and one can assume that endorsements at this level trickle down through the ranks to each tier of leadership and staffing, eventually shaping the actions and opinions of staff and volunteers at even the parish level.

It is fair, then, to conclude that the prevailing approaches, attitudes, and beliefs of our Church toward autistic people are at least twenty years behind where the current and reputably acceptable understanding of autism is in the rest of academia, the healthcare and helping professions, and actual lived experience.  And this is a huge problem.

One need conduct very minimal research to see how autism has progressed from grossly misguided and stigmatizing treatment to much more humane, compassionate and accurate approaches informed by neuropsychology and the collective stories of actually autistic individuals.  The collective dialogue about autism has grown substantially and the global understanding is slowly coming around to see that autistic people thrive when allowed to be autistic, rather than following a pathology-driven model of symptom elimination.  Though the challenges of an autistic neurotype remain the same, contemporary approaches draw on personal assets rather than deficits and encourage autonomy through identifying those skills which would be most helpful to each individual.  Emotion regulation, distress tolerance, interpersonal effectiveness and coping ahead are skills that any person needs, but can also be tailored individually to fit the configuration of autistic people based on where they are finding the most difficulty. But, lest this paint too rosy a picture, I will add that it is still an uphill climb.  Meltdowns, burnout, shunning and stereotypes still exist all over the place.  The difference is that we as a collective society have more tools and better ways to frame things than we did twenty years ago, so there is better hope for better growth and thriving than in the darker days of autistic history.  People finally know that Rain Man is not the last word on, or the most accurate picture of, autistic life.

Enter, then, this book – published September 1, 2022, as a long-awaited guide for the Church in shaping and forming autistic men for holy orders.  In fact, once I started reading it, I realized the Church has waited TOO long to start looking at these questions.

Again, I emphasize that I read this book as a member of the laity who takes my call to pray for priests and vocations seriously, and as the mother of at least one person who may – who knows? – one day hear that call for himself.  And so it is that I speak up as one who is very concerned, who wants very much to support priests and vocations to religious life, and who recognizes that the pool of prospective members likely reflects the same demographics as we see in the mainstream population.  If we go with the one-in-44 estimate, debatable or not, we can safely assume we have several autistic people among us in every parish, in every diocese.   How many autistic people are called to religious vocations?  Only the Holy Spirit can answer that.  But it is our responsibility as fellow members of the Church to support all vocations, including those stirring in autistic individuals.

Thus, I raise the alarm.

Alarm? Isn’t that a bit melodramatic?  Not really.  Take a look at this review of the book by an autistic priest, and tell me afterwards if I am being dramatic.  Considering he was ordained 35 years ago, it is fair to deduce that he came of age during that time when autism was less understood and widely pathologized.  His words suggest that he has endured a lot of pain as a result.  While we can shrug and say that this was an unfortunate matter of people not knowing about autism like we do now, how can we reconcile that when this book – filled with the same pathologizing characterizations – was just published?

This needs to stop.

I have no answers.  I have no idea how to bring the Church up to speed so that she can work hand in hand with her autistic members in a way that is accurate, compassionate and truly nurturing of who we are.  I just know that if this book is commensurate with a policy statement, we’re in trouble.  I would feel the same way and make the same statements if a book like this came out in any other context – school boards, medical societies, secular academia – and I would issue the same call that I am now.

The Church is in the dark about autism. We, as autistic Catholics, need to be light.  We need to be visible.  We need to be who we are, as brightly as possible – because the Church is not seeing clearly.  The Church is stuck in the same rut that paints autism as a burden, a puzzle, something to be swept under the rug or passed over as quickly and deftly as possible so as not to draw attention to anything that looks or sounds different.  The Church is not comfortable with us as we are.  And this is not just limited to holy orders; ask any autistic person who has tried to participate in ministries, leadership roles, youth groups, sacramental preparation, faith sharing… and found them inaccessible, impenetrable and immutable.  Has nobody yet heard of universal design, or is it too scary to think of introducing something new at the institutional, diocesan, seminary or parish level?

We autistics have spent our lifetimes learning ways to grow and thrive and accept that non-autistic people do things differently.  We have been explicitly taught scads of social skills and social graces, scripts that help us come across in ways that supposedly pass muster so that we are taken seriously.

It’s time to model this for the Church.

It’s time to model compassion, active listening, comprehension, acceptance.  It’s time to model patience with a system that appears to us as lacking empathy, slow to understand and rigid in its ways.   But hey… we’ve been there.  We have both the experience to teach and the capacity to forgive.

If I may, allow me to paraphrase Ross Greene in closing: The Church’s stance on autism is challenging because it lacks the skills to not be challenging.  Skills do not just drop out of the sky; grace, however, makes all things possible.  As autistic Catholics, our mission seems clearer and clearer: We must be the light that is currently lacking. We must pray, be visible, and be the truth that makes up for twenty-plus years of systemic turning away and not seeing the pastoral necessity of understanding neurodiversity.

May God help us all in our mission.

A Cloud of Witnesses

by Fr. Mark P. Nolette

Twentieth Sunday of Ordinary Time (C)

Hebrews 12:1-4

 

In this world we have our troubles
Sometimes lonesome, sometimes blue,
But the hope of life eternal
Brightens all our hopes anew.

(Chorus)

I don’t want to get adjusted
To this world, to this world,
I’ve got a home that’s so much better,
I want to go to sooner or later,
I don’t want to get adjusted to this world!

– From the song “I Don’t Want To Get Adjusted”, attributed to Sanford Massingale. This quote is from the version that the folk group The Weavers recorded and sang live in the early 1950’s.  Many recorded versions of this song exist today. 

The terms “adjusted” and “well-adjusted” may be used less frequently now than they were a generation or two ago, but the meaning these terms express remains an ideal in psychology. One dictionary definition for “well-adjusted” is the following: “A well-adjusted person is reasonable and has good judgment. Their behavior is not difficult or strange”. Such a person is seen as socially acceptable and popular, a model for others to imitate.

We might think that, in the more fragmented society we live in today, any talk about being well-adjusted may be less compelling than it was in the past. On the contrary, it is even more true now. Each fragment in our society has more stringent requirements for accepting someone as “well-adjusted”, and more severe penalties for non-conformity. This reflects both the desperate need that human beings have to belong to something beyond ourselves as individuals, and the basic fact about human behavior that the great French social scientist René Girard points out – human beings learn by imitation.  We imitate other people, especially those of the group(s) we identify with.  Even people who present themselves as non-conformists are imitating behaviors they learned from people they admire, and are “not conforming” in ways that are acceptable to our society or at least the group(s) in society they identify with.  Even in their nonconformity, they conform! Those who fail to meet such societal standards are labeled as evil or mentally ill – often both.  Such societal standards are determined by whoever happens to be atop the social ladder at any given time.

Now there is nothing wrong, as a rule, with adopting the language, styles and customs of whatever society we belong to. There is nothing wrong, as a rule, with belonging to a political party or having differing opinions on various political issues. There is nothing wrong, as a rule,  with enjoying the good things that this world offers. The clear exception to this rule, for us who call ourselves Catholic Christians, is whenever anything is contrary to the truth that Our Lord has revealed to us through His Church.

This is where things get interesting. Remember that people learn primarily by imitation. We live in a fragmented society that presents a variety of values and norms to us – some of which are compatible with Catholic faith, and others which are not. We imitate what is around us, often without giving it a second thought. We do not notice – or do not want to notice – the cognitive dissonance between that various ideas and beliefs that are swirling about in our heads.

C.S. Lewis, in The Screwtape Letters, has Screwtape, the experienced tempter, explain this to his apprentice devil Wormwood.  Even though this was written nearly eight decades ago, it still hits home:

Your man has been accustomed, ever since he was a boy, to have a dozen incompatible philosophies dancing about together inside his head. He doesn’t think of doctrines as primarily ‘true’ or ‘false’, but as ‘academic’ or ‘practical’, ‘outworn’ or ‘contemporary’, ‘conventional’ or ‘ruthless’. Jargon, not argument, is your best ally in keeping him from the Church. Don’t waste time trying to make him think that materialism is true! Make him think it is strong, or stark, or courageous—that it is the philosophy of the future. That’s the sort of thing he cares about.

Why do we do this? For one thing, we don’t want to look bad. We want to have it both ways, as long as we can manage it. We don’t even want to think about the incompatible ideas swirling about in our brains. We want to be acceptable to the people whose opinion of us matters. We try to be Catholic and other things, all at once. However, as Christ reminded us, we cannot serve two masters, let alone three or more. We will always end up choosing one over the others when the going gets tough in any way.  The choices we make then tell us – and others – who our real master is, if we are honest enough with ourselves to get the message.

Let me use publications, rather than people, as examples of what I am trying to get at. Some Catholic publications in this country have a politically progressive lean to them. Others have a politically conservative lean to them. As such, this need not be a problem. The problem arises when there is a conflict between what secular progressives or conservatives think and what the Church teaches. Some of these publications, to their credit, side with the Church. Other Catholic publications will almost always ignore or criticize the Catholic approach whenever it is at odds with the approach of their political leanings. You see who the real master is.

I’ll use people as examples only in this sense. Our society offers us models of what a successful, well-adjusted person looks like. Sometimes, these models don’t agree with each other, let alone with the teachings of the Church in some areas. We learn by imitation.  Who do we imitate? What do we imitate?

Friends, I offer for your consideration the second reading in this Sunday’s Mass, taken from the Letter to the Hebrews. A few comments on this letter may be useful before we move on. It was assumed by many that this Letter was written by Saint Paul. However, it does not begin the way Paul’s other letters begin “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus…”, nor does it end with Paul’s usual signature and farewell. The author is not named. In fact, the Letter to the Hebrews reads more like a homily given by a pastor to a congregation he knows well, in an effort to encourage them in their trials to remain faithful to the Lord.

Our reading, taken from the twelfth chapter of Hebrews, begins in this way:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith.”  

The author of Hebrews – or the ancient homilist, if our theory is correct – wants his readers and listeners to imitate “so great a cloud of witnesses” and Jesus Himself.

Who makes up this great cloud of witnesses? We discover this in the previous chapter of Hebrews, which last Sunday’s second reading was taken from. The reading focuses on Abraham, but the chapter as a whole speaks about a number of Old Testament witnesses, from Abel all the way to those who died in the persecutions described in the books of Maccabees. They are all presented as models of faith for Christians to follow.  What are we to notice in these models of faith? What should we learn from them? The author of Hebrews tells us:

All these died in faith. They did not receive what had been promised but saw it and greeted it from afar and acknowledged themselves to be strangers and aliens on earth, for those who speak thus show that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land from which they had come, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better homeland, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Later in the chapter, our author/homilist has more to add:

What more shall I say? I have not time to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets, who by faith conquered kingdoms, did what was righteous, obtained the promises; they closed the mouths of lions, put out raging fires, escaped the devouring sword; out of weakness they were made powerful, became strong in battle, and turned back foreign invaders. Women received back their dead through resurrection. Some were tortured and would not accept deliverance, in order to obtain a better resurrection. Others endured mockery, scourging, even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, sawed in two, put to death at sword’s point; they went about in skins of sheep or goats, needy, afflicted, tormented. The world was not worthy of them. They wandered about in deserts and on mountains, in caves and in crevices in the earth. Yet all these, though approved because of their faith, did not receive what had been promised. God had foreseen something better for us, so that without us they should not be made perfect.

What is most interesting to me in all this is that, although we see references to people who could be called successful in the world’s eyes, the focus is elsewhere. “They acknowledged themselves to be strangers and aliens on earth… they desire a better homeland, a heavenly one… some were tortured… endured mockery… wandered about in deserts.. in caves and crevices of the earth”. These are not people who were successful by the usual worldly standards. These are people who were willing to give up their homeland, their freedom, even their very lives, for a promise of God that would not be fulfilled in its entirety in their lifetimes on earth. These are people who might not seem to be “well-adjusted” by the definition of society as a whole. Yet, “God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them”.

When the author of Hebrews turns to Jesus as an example for us to imitate, this is what we read:

…while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith. For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right of the throne of God.Consider how he endured such opposition from sinners, in order that you may not grow weary and lose heart.

Again, the focus is on imitating the way that Jesus perseveres and is faithful through opposition, suffering and death.  It is easy to persevere when all are on your side. When you have to make a choice and persevere by faith, then we need the encouragement of this cloud of witnesses and the grace and strength that come from Jesus Himself.

From our perspective, many centuries later, we can add more people to this cloud of witnesses. We can point to the Apostles and others in the New Testament who gave witness to their faith. We can point to saints of every generation, from the martyrs who died in the Roman persecutions to recently canonized saints. Many of us have patron saints of our own whose lives inspire and challenge us.

Now, this cloud of witnesses is not made up only of people who have died in years past. There are people, living among us now, who are also part of that cloud of witnesses. Their lives encourage and challenge us in the same way that the saints of long ago do. Who are these people who make up this living cloud of witnesses? We all know people who strike us as holy, as living examples of faith, hope and love, as living Beatitudes among us. Among these, I want to single out for your consideration a specific group of people within this cloud of witnesses. I am talking about autistic people as well as others who tend to be loners and outsiders.

Autistic people often feel like “strangers and aliens on earth” who “desire a better homeland”. They do not strike most people as being “well-adjusted” in the usual sense. Others tend to see their social awkwardness as pathological, as something that needs help. Yes, there is some truth in this. However, that very social awkwardness serves as a reminder to everyone that we are all “strangers and aliens on earth” who “desire a better homeland”. Autistic people witness to everyone that this present world is not our ultimate home. If we are to be “well-adjusted”, it is not to this world but to the homeland that the Lord offers us, a homeland that we already perceive in faith. Autistic people, by their social aloofness, are a prophetic witness to everyone of all that the Letter to the Hebrews has to say.  Remember the old story of the canaries in the mines. Autistic people are simply more sensitive than most to the transitoriness of earthly life and the need for faith in the Lord who leads us to our permanent homeland.

I want to point out one more line in what I quoted previously from Hebrews: “without us they should not be made perfect.” In the original context, this refers to how this cloud of witnesses from the Old Testament never saw the complete fulfillment of God’s promises in their earthly lives, but looked forward to its fulfillment in Jesus and in Christians.  How would it apply to my description of autistic people as important members of the living cloud of witnesses today?

As I said previously, autistic people feel more than most that sense of being wanderers on Earth and looking forward to a better homeland. This is true for all Catholics, all Christians. However, part of our calling as Catholic Christians is to be, here and now, a sign of what that future homeland will look like. We do not have only the grace and the vocation to point forward to the New Jerusalem. people who see how we live as Catholic communities should see some sign of the New Jerusalem already here among us.  Autistic people, like all Catholics, seek that heavenly homeland. The Catholic community as a whole has a vocation to show autistic people concrete signs that the homeland they seek is already here, among us, as Catholics, by the grace of God.

How can Catholic communities do this? They do this by reaching out to their autistic brothers and sisters. They get to know them, learn what their needs are, and seek to make Catholic communities homelands for their autistic brothers and sisters, as much as they possibly can. Autistic lives matter, too.  In this way, the grace of the Lord can grow on autistic people just as it does for all Catholics.  They can find their homeland, already present (even if imperfectly) in Catholic communities who welcome them, and can look forward in hope to the full attainment of this homeland in the Lord, beyond this present life.

All these (lived and) died in faith. They did not receive what had been promised but saw it and greeted it from afar and acknowledged themselves to be strangers and aliens on earth,  for those who speak thus show that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land from which they had come, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better homeland, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

From The Anchorite: An Open Letter To My Beloved Church

An Open Letter To My Beloved Church

By Fr. Mark Nolette

 

To all Catholics, and all people of good will: May grace and peace be yours from the Father, through the Son, in the unity of the Holy Spirit!

I am an autistic Catholic priest.

My unusual identity gives a particular twist to how I am called to live out my priesthood. In the ancient world, one of the images used to describe the priest was pontifex, Latin for bridge-buulder. We still use this term when we refer to the Pope as the Supreme Pontiff. The role of the priest was seen as building a bridge between divinity and humanity. Since Jesus Christ, by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection, reconciled us to the Father in the Spirit, He became known as the true High Priest, the ultimate bridge-builder between God and humanity.  All Catholic priests, from that time on, have been given a share in His work of bridge-building. Some exercise this in parish ministry. Others serve as hospital or prison chaplains. Still others dedicate themselves to specific groups of people who are in need of shepherds and bridge-builders.

I had been in parish ministry until the effects of my autism and my growing sense of a calling to devote myself to a more contemplative form of priesthood led me to retire from parish ministry. However, my calling to build bridges remains. The Lord has shown me that an important part of my vocation now is to be a bridge-builder between the Lord, the Church, and autistic people. I seek to do this through this blog.  I seek to do this through the Autism Consecrated website. I seek to do this through a life devoted to prayer as a contemplative hermit in the Lord’s presence. It is in this role as bridge-builder that I address you now.

Autism is considered to be a disabling condition. If you are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder and meet certain criteria, you can qualify for Social Security Disability in the United States. As a nation and as a Church, we still struggle to make our churches and public spaces accessible to people with disabilities in general. Many of our churches may have wheelchair ramps. Some may have people who can interpret the words of the Mass in sign language for our deaf members. It’s the rare parish that offers more than this.

What about the needs of autistic Catholics? Most of the books written (so far) on autism and Church have been written by Protestants.  Those written by Catholics are chiefly focused on how to adapt a faith formation curriculum for autistic children.  People forget that those children grow up! A few parishes have set up “sensory-friendly” rooms (anti-cry rooms, so to speak), separate from the main worship area. These rooms feature (ideally) softer lighting, lower audio volume, and a TV screen for watching Mass.  Having spent time in one, I can say that such rooms cut both ways. On the one hand, they are a positive help. On the other, people who use these rooms are easily forgotten by the parish community, even its leaders, because they are unseen. A few dioceses are trying “sensory-friendly Masses”. These are Masses in parish churches, in their usual worship space, which feature lower audio volume, softer lighting, and other tweaks. These Masses are a step in the right direction.

The biggest challenge, however, isn’t about buildings or programs or even sensory input. It’s about attitude. Do you want us? Do you, my dear fellow Catholics, want us autistic Catholics as part of your faith communities? If the attitude is there, the rest will follow.

This is an extremely important question. One recent survey has shown that over 80% of autistic Christians (Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox) do not attend services in their local churches. This is the highest percentage of non-attendance of any group with a disability that still leaves them capable of going to church. Slipping into my logical brain, I would assume that this statistic alone would make autistic Catholics (and other autistic people) a prime focus of the New Evangelization. I would assume that this would make autistic Catholics an ideal target for the New Apologetics that Bishop Robert Barron and his Word on Fire community speak about. The harvest is indeed rich. Where are the laborers?

When I could see that I could no longer do parish ministry, I proposed to officials in my diocese that I could be a consultant or liaison for ministry to autistic people in my diocese. No one showed interest in this. Diocesan officials say that the local parishes should do something about this. Local parishes say that they lack the resources for this.

That is not all. I regularly hear from autistic people who have tried to connect with their parishes and find that they are ignored, their needs minimized, and their behaviors (over which they may have little control) ridiculed or mocked – even by pastors and lay parish leaders. Many autistic Catholics end up feeling like they have to pastor themselves. Is this right? Is this what Christ had in mind for His Church?

It doesn’t help that autism is seen by many as a “mental illness”. Even in 2022, when people see the term “mental illness”, they are much more likely to think of serial killers and mass shootings than the story of a group of Down’s Syndrome adults who had a foot race in a Paralympics.  The ones who took the lead then slowed down so that all the runners could cross the finish line together and win together.

Let me be blunt. If we autistic people were all wealthy, parishes and dioceses would beat a path to our doors. If we were members of a favored group in our culture, some Church ministers would reach out to us, if only to score points with society as a whole. Far too often, Church leaders take their cues (even without realizing it) from the prevailing cultural standards and not from the Gospel. We matter only if the surrounding culture says that we matter.

The Gospel has a different narrative to propose to us. Christ offers us the parable of the man who had a hundred sheep. One of them runs off. In first-century Palestine, anyone wealthy enough to have a hundred sheep could easily replace the missing one. Yet the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine in search of this one sheep that had no worldly value.

Saint Paul gives us more guidance. The community he founded in Corinth was beginning to think highly of itself from a worldly point of view. They believed that they had “made it” in the world, and looked down on those (even of their own Christian community) who had no worldly status. Saint Paul reminded them, first of all, that most of them had little worldly status when they first embraced the faith. Moreover, they are now members of the Church, the Body of Christ, where all cultural values are inverted. Those who seem to be worthless in the culture’s eyes are all the more valued by Christ and should be all the more honored by all His disciples.  Every Catholic community, from then until now, shows its understanding of the Gospel by how they love those people who are deemed to be lowest in the society around them.

Autistic people, at first glance, may not seem attractive or promising candidates for a Catholic community. We have trouble reaching out and expressing our feelings, even feelings of love. We may seem cold and uncaring to those who do not know us. We can move in odd, repetitive ways, make sounds unexpectedly, or have meltdowns in public. We wear headphones to church to protect us from the audio volume (which may be too loud even for you) and we are accused of disrespect as you assume we’re listening to music.

If there is anything you can learn about us, let it be this. We are like you in many ways.  The things that bother you, bother us. Where we differ from you is not in kind, but in intensity. Imagine an equalizer. In some areas, our settings are like yours. In others, the settings are turned way up – or way down. Some of us are extremely sensitive to sounds, or colors, or certain smells or the feel of certain things. Some of us are very sensitive to inconsistencies and incongruities and cognitive dissonance. If you claim to believe one thing and live another, we see it immediately.  Given our lack of social skills, we might even say so.  This may not ingratiate us to you!

Nevertheless, we have souls and hearts.  We are human beings. Christ died for us as He did for you. Our salvation is as important as yours.  The fact that we are human, like you, should be more than enough for you to reach out to us and work with us to help us become part of our Catholic communities as best we can.

Now I’ll let you in on a little secret. We have a special gift that comes from being autistic. Think of the odd behaviors we may exhibit – the movements, the noises, the meltdowns, the anxieties. Some of these, at least, are in fact given to us for the community as a whole. How so, you ask?

Think of the old story of how miners would bring caged canaries with them into the mines. The canaries were more sensitive to poisonous gases than the miners, so the gases affected the canaries first. When the miners saw this, they knew they had to leave that mine, and quickly.  In the same way, if an autistic person reacts very strongly to the sound volume, or to poor sound quality, this is a problem that will affect everyone eventually. Rather than blame the autistic person, look at the problem this person perceives. If an autistic teenager can’t deal with youth ministry as most parishes do it, maybe the problem is with the way youth ministry is done. I read about a teacher who decided, as an experiment, to change the way she ran her classroom to accommodate her two autistic students.  When she did so, she found that everyone did better, not only the autistic students.

What the world deems foolish is often wisdom before God.

There is much more I can say; much more I can offer in regard to all this.  If you want to pursue this, you’ll find some other posts in my blog and a lot of the material in Autism Consecrated to be most helpful.  Please remember: Christ died for us autistic people, too!

May the Lord generously bless all of you, all that you do and all that you are!

Father Mark

Three Simple and Meaningful Ways for Parishes and Churches to Promote Autism Awareness in April (And Beyond)

(Note – the graphic is designed primarily for Catholic viewers and readers, but the text here has been adjusted to apply more universally to any Christian worship community. Feel free to share in your own circles!)

Three Simple and Meaningful Ways for Parishes and Churches to Promote Autism Awareness in April – And Beyond!

  1. Plan one homily or sermon acknowledging God’s wisdom in creating neurodiversity: noting the role of autistic people in the Body of Christ, dispelling myths many people still have about autism, and setting the tone for the parish as a place that recognizes and cherishes its neurodiverse members – seen and unseen, heard and unheard.

 

  1. Consider offering a sensory friendly worship service as part of the regular services one weekend… then, consider how that could become a recurring option throughout the year.

 

  1. Host a brainstorming session for autistic people in the church, asking what would make it easier to participate in church events, sacraments, leadership and ministry. Plan this so that input can be received in writing or pre-recorded as well as in person, to include input from non-speaking persons.

 

First, Define “Leadership.”

When addressing the question of where autism fits into the Church, it has been said – and rightly so – that inclusion is not just a special project, but rather, should be something that flows from the top down.  For this to be authentic, then autistic people need to be included in the leadership of that community.

While this is easily said, it is not something that is easily attainable.  How so?

When we look at the question of how autistic people can have more representation in decision-making, the first step is to ask what is meant by leadership.  People normally think of the leader as the one on top, the one who is in charge.  That is one kind of leadership, but not the only one.  Let us use The Lord of the Rings as an example.  Aragorn is the one destined to be king.  He gradually moves into that role.  However, Gandalf also exercises a great deal of leadership though he is not a king or ruler in the usual sense.  As a wizard, he is an outsider – not man, elf, dwarf or hobbit; yet all recognize his wisdom and discernment, his prophetic leadership (if you will).

As a rule, autistic people do better in Gandalf’s role than in Aragorn’s.  But that requires a culture that values that kind of insight and prophetic speech and therefore values those who have such gifts.  In a parish, the pastor may ultimately be in charge, but others also exercise other kinds of leadership.  Deacons lead in one particular way.  The parish council is meant to exercise another kind of leadership as an advisory group to the pastor, assisting in forming the parish vision and in discerning how best to implement it.  All of this requires an openness from the pastor and the parish as a whole for collaborative leadership, and a focus on the individual gifts of each participant, rather than defaulting to pre-defined ideas of what “leadership” roles should be.

Autistic people are very well-suited to act as advisors and consultants to those in roles of parish and diocesan decision-making.  This is one way in which we can exercise a kind of leadership that is consistent with our autistic nature, valuing the gifts we bring rather than requiring us to conform to the system already in place (which, many times, excludes people like us).  A first step toward inclusion at the leadership level, then, is to invite autistic input at every level, starting with the roots – that our ideas and needs may permeate whichever entry point our comfort level may be, and be championed upward from there.

 

Fixed: Email subscribers glitch

A note to email subscribers: We are attempting to fix the glitch which has prevented our recent notifications for new blog posts from sending.  If you have not received our latest notifications, we direct your attention now to our two most recent posts:

April: A Puzzling Month 

Autistic Egypt

Additionally, we invite readers to see Fr. Mark Nolette’s guest blog post on the National Catholic Partnership on Disability webpage: Autism Appreciation: Lessons from Horton Hears A Who

Thank you!
Aimee O’Connell – Autism Consecrated