An update on the Virtual Café

It is nearly two months after Autism Consecrated introduced our Virtual Café, and the concept is doing exactly what we had hoped it would.

In offering a Virtual Café, we sought to provide something simultaneously real and imaginary, simultaneously tangible and intangible.  Whereas an actual café might be a building offering an oasis of refreshment, our concept goes one step further by requiring participation of the imagination.  What distinguishes the experience is that it is a shared activity – the formation of a community in the unseen, where empathy and acceptance exist unbounded by tangible limitations.  When we offer a space to rest and recharge without pressure, that space comes from the constructs of our attitudes, our beliefs, our desires, our intentions, and our lived experience.  It is what ultimately drives any sense of refreshment our visitors will experience and take with them.  None of those things are “make believe.”  The hospitality we extend is very real. We know what it is like to live in a world that dismisses autistic needs as irrelevant to the community, as individual hardships to be endured without inconveniencing the many… and we also know that is not the way human beings are designed to live.  Our goal is to make St. Thorlak’s Virtual Café  a place where empathy and compassion are freely and happily given, as often as our cups need refilling.

We are pleased to have a model at hand showing that neurodivergent hospitality can, in fact, be offered in a readily applicable and sustainable way.  St. Thorlak’s Virtual Café has no other operating cost than the fraction of the web domain devoted to its posting.  The resources needed can be readily found in the imagination… in the unseen… in the creativity that flows from the mere attitude of welcoming one another.  Would that brick and mortar institutions might notice that inclusion and belonging are not prohibited by either the limitations of disability or the lack of physical resources and accommodations.

Prayer: Let Me Be Leaven

A new addition has been made available on our Prayer page, entitled “Let Me Be Leaven,” based on the very brief parable in Matthew 13:33 –

“The kingdom of heaven is like leaven which a woman took and hid in three measures of flour,

till it was all leavened.”

There are many, many times when we find ourselves in situations where we ask whether or not we should stay, or whether we would be missed if we leave.  Oftentimes this has something to do with our neurodivergence – our being misunderstood, or not noticed, or not able to participate because our needs exceed the accommodations available.  It is an awful feeling, to say the least.  There are times when it is obvious that it is appropriate (maybe even necessary) to leave.  Other times are more ambiguous.  We may want to stay for many valid reasons, but question whether it’s worth the cost.  We may feel a sense of loyalty and belonging, even if that is not always reciprocated.  It may be important to follow through on principle.  Or, we may very simply want to be there because we are there – which is valid reason enough!

For those times, the parable of the leaven in the Kingdom of God seems an apt comparison.  Aside from any physical parallels between how we feel and what dough endures (need we mention kneading, punching or pulling?), the idea of leaven makes an interesting meditation.  Our Lord spoke of leaven to describe how something small and humble grows into something grand and nourishing to great numbers, referring to how the Kingdom of God grows with each simple “yes.”  And yet, the process of leavening is also worth pondering, if we consider how yeast works alongside and within the popular and easily recognizable pantry staples.  Indeed, the sometimes silent, sometimes turbulent action of yeast is absolutely essential to the growth, expansion and full expression of the finished product.

Here is the text of the prayer.

 

Lord, let me be leaven.

When I am unseen, unheard, unknown in my community: Let me be leaven.

Let the full spectrum of me be present, if undetected, exactly as I am: stimming or still, restless or recollected, vocal or silent, vibrant or subdued, needy or fulfilled.

Hide me deep within surrounding measures of activities and committees and busyness and social gatherings.  May my presence permeate and thrive within the community, even when it is not perceptible.

Take into Your Loving Hands my yearning to belong, my desire to serve, the gifts I would share if given the opportunity – and rest them safely beneath the warmth of Your gaze, to rise and expand and thrive in the time You appoint.

Lord, hide me in the places You need me to be, and let me be leaven, wherever You lead me.

 

Amen.

 

 

 

Neurodivergent hospitality is not a contradiction

by Aimée O’Connell

One of the things we strive to do at Autism Consecrated is look at the many contradictory aspects of neurodivergent life in the hopes of finding solutions.  Universal design is a core value of ours, at times as much for the sport of the challenge as for the gratifying payoff each time the entire community can benefit from something which might instead have gone the way of an easily forgotten one-and-done accommodation.

The topic of hospitality is an ongoing conversation here.  What does hospitality look like for autistic and neurodivergent people?  Well, that’s not too difficult to answer, in theory.  Hospitality means “the friendly and generous reception of guests, visitors or strangers” (Oxford Dictionary).  Implied in that is a sense of genuine interest in providing a comfortable, safe, inviting setting for those who stop by.  Hospitality for the neurodivergent, then, is no more mystifying than finding out what our needs are, and then striving to provide for them.

Still, that can seem daunting to communities who are used to doing things as they have always been done, and who approach accommodations with a certain trepidation, consciously or not.  Besides that are the apparent contradictions between social ministries and autistic needs.  For instance: What does “fellowship” look like for those with low social energy, or in group settings that cannot provide the level of quiet and space some people need to communicate (that is, to process and participate in conversation)?  Any attempt to answer will be very setting-specific.  But here is a constant across all situations: connection is possible with as few as just two people.  Saint Thorlak often drew the attention of his mentees to what Jesus said in Matthew 18:20 (“Where two or more are gathered in my name, I AM present”).  Jesus is both present in the Sacrament of the Eucharist and in the community of His followers, whom he explicitly says comprise His Body.  In Matthew 18:20, He clarifies that community exists in groups as small as two – thus offering a way toward solving the question of hospitality for autistic and neurodivergent people.  Warmth, invitation, welcome and support can be offered individually to individuals at any place, any time, and community is achieved – that is to say, the Body of Christ is realized.

Saint Thorlak himself was mentored by the Victorine brothers in Paris, renowned for their credo Docere Verbo Et Exemplo – To Teach By Word And Example.  He had the reputation of being a stickler for the priests in his diocese to live what they preached, demonstrating discipline by themselves being well-disciplined, and demonstrating mercy by themselves being merciful.  He was also known to have great difficulty speaking, particularly in large groups (… sound familiar?) Much of his “teaching by word” was accomplished through writing, which was then read by and to clergy as pastoral instruction.  Saint Thorlak used writing to both accommodate his needs and conserve his social and physical energy for the Sacraments and important administrative matters.

Our pondering has led us to see Saint Thorlak’s method of teaching by word – both his frequent reference to Matthew 18:20, and his embracing his communication needs so fully – as his way of “teaching us by example.”  We constantly look for ways to model what we might like to see take shape in terms of universal design and outreach, all the while considering our needs as autistic people, and the needs of any autistic people in ministry and socially-active roles in church life.  It only makes sense to start with the same kinds of accommodations and supports as befit our own sensory and processing needs.  And so, we are going to try rolling out a beta version of one of our ideas.

Saint Thorlak’s Virtual Café is a simple page front offering images suggesting (we hope!) an inviting spot for website visitors to pause and connect, virtually.  If this were in three dimensions, we might picture a small café with comfortable seating, low lighting, a selection of refreshments which both please the palate and consider a variety of dietary needs… and, cats.  We happen to find cats most delightful and spirit-lifting.  If this were in three dimensions, we’d have to have cats, along with a cat-free room for those who find cats distressing or are allergic to cat dander.  (Anything is possible when we build cafés in our imaginations… the virtual model at least offers allergy-free images).  Over time, the cat theme may evolve into something more artfully nuanced; for now, the beta version has plain old snapshots of two feline denizens.

The café of our imagining would offer space to connect with one another, one or two at a time.  We’re not just proprietors here – we want to greet you, share time together and connect with you ourselves.  Your visit brings Christ present, and we are eager to welcome Him!  We genuinely seek the gift of your friendship.

Since this is a virtual café, we thought we might welcome visitors with a contact form.  We realize that has its limitations, particularly for those with low vision or difficulty typing.  It’s a beta version, after all, and our resources are extremely simple.  However, we hope that the technology on our visitors’ end can be of help to them.  Speech-to-text might work for those who need it, and perhaps down the road we can rig up a way to record spoken messages and send them through.  As for us, we rely heavily on typing, so that is a reflection of our own communication and processing styles.  We are happy to receive feedback and ideas if anyone has any to share.

So, what is the point of the form?  Anything our visitors want to say, share or ask.  Over the next few weeks, as Lent begins, we thought we might offer the specific idea of folks sharing their triumphs and frustrations with their Lenten journeys, since that (especially the latter) seems to be a common theme among fellow neurodiverse travelers.  Look for a blog post on that topic in the very near future.  But really, any topic you find relevant is of sufficient interest.

Please click through and give it a go!  May Saint Thorlak’s Virtual Café bless us with an autism-friendly realization of fellowship in the Body of Christ!

 

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

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.

The Pastoral Needs of Autism: Not-So-Great Expectations

The Pastoral Needs of Autism: Not-So-Great Expectations

by Aimée O’Connell

 

I write this from the United States, where many Catholic churches are in the early stages of re-opening after months of pandemic shutdown.  The health departments of each municipality have strict guidelines which churches must follow to ensure their ability to resume public gatherings, and the sheer magnitude of tension, both good and bad, is palpable.  People are desperate to have their normal routines back.  Many remain afraid of virus exposure.  Others feel the restrictions are excessive.  I’m not here to debate that, but the fact is, emotions are very high right now, and as such, the conditions under which we are returning to the routines we knew are strict, tense and rigidly enforced.

Against this backdrop are those in the autistic population who have high resting anxiety.  That phrase, “resting anxiety,” is itself an oxymoron we live with as ordinarily as we breathe.  Our perceptual system is fine-tuned to pick up every signal and report it to the brain as something needing immediate attention.  We “rest” very anxiously.  For some of us, it looks like a fast idle, never being comfortable sitting perfectly still.  For others, it comes across in constant thought, ruminating, second-guessing, running scenarios, anticipating, and exhausting ourselves interiorly.  Anxiety saps our coping resources as quickly as they build up.

There are many in the autistic community who become overwhelmed by the pressure of expectations.  It stems from the need for more time to fully review and comprehend the expectation and then match that with our ability to respond.  Within our response, there will be aspects we know we can do and aspects which will challenge us to push ourselves, to try what we do not know, or to attempt tasks at which we have previously failed.  We might compare it to the outrageous competition shows like American Gladiators and American Ninja Warriors, or even the lower-key shows like Minute to Win It, in that expectations can feel like disproportionately outsized obstacle courses or nonsensical, complex challenges that have to be completed under the pressure of time regardless of our ability to do so.  While these game shows are staged as fun, there is no fun whatsoever in the autistic home version, especially when there is no reward to what we face and no studio audience rooting for us.  In fact, more people than not tell us to “get over it” and “get going.”

There must be help for this kind of anxiety in the diagnostic community, right?  Well, yes and no.  As enlightened as practitioners are in our time, our culture as a whole is not very supportive.  Anxious people are mocked colloquially all over the place.  People who rely on routine are still called “anal,” thanks to Freud’s work one hundred years ago.  People who need more time to process, comprehend and shore up our responses are called “slow,” or “bad team players,” or “lazy.”  Now consider that people who feel genuine terror and overwhelming pressure when considering expectations can actually do okay if we are given time to let the tidal wave of anxiety crash and subside, to let our emotions spike and return to baseline, then to work either ourselves or with an advocate to form a plan for rising up and meeting these expectations.  Sounds reasonable, and supportive, and cooperative… right?

The problem is, that tidal wave of anxiety ain’t pretty.  Nowhere in human history is panic experienced as something polite, refined and orderly.  People fleeing giant monsters are never portrayed as pondering their options quietly and discussing plans in calm voices.  The same is true, interiorly, for those of us with expectation anxiety.  The pressure triggers panic, and we react accordingly.  Oftentimes, that is fight (explosive anger), flight (storming off) or freeze (unable to act).  And, those in our vicinity, who are able to cope where we are not, see us as out of control and refusing to calm down, which creates more tidal waves.

Compounding this is the likelihood that when we anticipate this and ask for help ahead of time, we are dismissed as feeling entitlement, seeking to be excused or above the law for inquiring about accommodations and exceptions.  The fact is, we are most often NOT coming from an attitude of superiority, but just the opposite: we feel keenly inferior.  The bulk of our panic is not a response to the expectation itself, but rather, the menace of our self-accusations.  We know we are different, we are weaker, we are easily confused… and self-loathing is a harsh taskmaster.  We are usually not very loving towards ourselves.  Our reflexive response is shame at our inadequacy, especially when we see everyone else gets it and can do it without difficulty.  If they can, why can’t we?

Historically, diagnostic terminology has been rooted in the reactions of the community, not the individuals experiencing the anxiety.  We have categories of “personality disorders.”  We have terms like “oppositional” and “defiant.”  Even expectation anxiety has been recognized (good!) but termed “pathological demand avoidance,” which just perpetuates the shame rather than solving anything together.  Sadly, such terminology validates our self-loathing.  Diagnoses may help the community feel like we have named the beast so that we can tame it, but the problem lies in the semantic branding as troublemakers, both in the eyes of the community and in our own minds.

Where does this leave us?  How are we to get better… how are we to learn to love ourselves in our needs, and maybe break the cycle of self-loathing that manifests in outbursts… when this expectation is not yet modeled by the communities in which we live?  While the world rages about outdated concepts and terminology in matters such as policing and racial discrimination, the mental health arena lags far behind.

I am not going to deny that expectation anxiety is problematic.  It most certainly is, and in large public gatherings, that tidal wave of anxiety plus self-loathing creates chaos and can provoke dangerous situations.  High emotions need to be contained safely, no matter who we are, for the good and safety of ourselves and the entire community.  But there is no reason we cannot strive toward looking critically at our broken system with love.  It is a radical suggestion to begin with such seemingly subjective sentiment as “love,” but if we stop to realize that love is a choice of our human faculties and not merely an emotion, perhaps we can find a place where the mental health system can become a healing model.

Back to the beginning: This month, many parishes are opening again, with high tension as people’s expectations are enormously magnified.

Many people in the autistic community are experiencing expectation anxiety.  We are panicking at the thought of wearing masks for that length of time… of following marked spaces in orderly lines… of being told that deviations from the rules cannot be tolerated… of having our normal coping helps, such as lobbies and bathrooms and cry rooms off limits… of having extra staff watching us… of knowing that we are only allowed to be there if we can guarantee our best behavior… and we are finding it too much.  We come down harshly on ourselves and take the blame before it is even issued, and just stay home.  So much for inclusion.  Is it anyone’s fault?  No.  But is it anyone’s responsibility to help?

Only the community can decide that.

And then, when these strict routines begin to fade back to ordinary time once again, will we remember this discussion, when an autistic person has an outburst during regular activities, when internal tension builds to a breaking point, when the ability to take a bathroom break means the difference between exploding and calming down?  Or will we go back to sighing and commenting that someone that age ought to be able to sit for thirty minutes without excusing themselves, in the earshot of the person whose inner critic thrives on that kind of validation?

Only the community can decide that.

“Welcome” Seems To Be The Hardest Word

Autism Consecrated is kicking off our Pastoral Inclusion of Autism Series!

Whether you are reading this as an autistic person or someone who serves the community in some way, this next wave of posts on pastoral inclusion of autism will hopefully spark thoughts and ideas applicable to anyone.  While many of these points seem simple, their implications run quite deep.

 

Part One: “Welcome” Seems To Be The Hardest Word

by Aimée O’Connell

In my career, I have done a great deal of consulting: first as a school psychologist, then as a family support liaison for adults living with mental illness, and most recently with ministry volunteers looking to be more welcoming and inclusive toward those on the autism spectrum.  I find it exhilarating to demystify and humanize things like learning disabilities, mental illness and autism, which our culture tends to classify as conditions separating people from the ability to achieve what we collectively call “success” – that is to say, a sense of ease and accomplishment with our lives, our identities, and our relationships.   Our culture so greatly values individual achievement that there is an unspoken sense of “yes, but” when a person needs help to attain what the majority can do independently.  Thus, when someone identifies with one of these conditions upfront, we unconsciously equate that with needing help – whether we are the people disclosing their conditions or the ones standing by.

With autism awareness growing over the past decade, there is a proliferation of information available in print and online to describe autism to those not yet familiar with what this means.  There are descriptions coming from clinical sources which outline the situations most likely to be difficult for autistic people, and there are resources developed by autistics themselves describing which  accommodations are helpful.  Somewhere in the middle are articles and checklists which provide detailed ways to help autistic people feel comfortable and accepted.

I want to make a strange suggestion: I would like to propose skipping over all that information.

Do you want to help your community be more welcoming and accessible to autistics?  Start by asking yourself anthropologically what any community does to express “welcome.”  Some of it is overt, even including signage using that word, but much of it is completely unspoken, with the expectation that those who show up want to be here, are able to participate, and have something worthwhile to contribute.  Generally, “welcome” is a signal that says we are at ease with newcomers joining our group and that we feel confident that participants have the capacity to be here.  “Welcome” is a statement of approval and acceptance into the community.

At the risk of being absurd, I say that “welcome” does not take the time to study newcomers or approach them as puzzles to solve.  “Welcome” does not make clinical assessments at the door or convene task forces to study how to restructure activities, modify the environment or come to the aid of the less-able.

If we know all of this intuitively, then making our community welcoming and accessible to autistics is a matter of signaling that we are at ease with autistics joining our group, and that we feel confident they have the capacity to be here.

All that other stuff can happen further down the road, if it seems helpful or appropriate.  Want to better appreciate what it’s like to be autistic?  Ask us, or read about autism… but, do that after you invite us in and assure us that our being there is important.  Want to make autistic people more comfortable or better able to participate in the activities at hand?  Ask us, or read about ways to do so… but, do that after you invite us in and assure us that our being there is important.

“Solving the problem of autism” ahead of time may be efficient, but it necessarily tags us as a problem.  That does not feel very welcoming.

Of course, it is important to know what makes an autistic person comfortable and optimizes our ability to participate.  That comes after (and because of) the welcome.  A core list of considerations for autistic well-being includes sensory regulation, physical space, preferred communication style, social participation and personal interests.  As part of sensory regulation, it is important to consider lighting, acoustics, decibel level, textures, temperatures, ability to move around, ambient aromas and visual layout. Dietary preferences and supports are also an important consideration.

None of this is terribly cumbersome, and none of this is any one person’s responsibility.  In fact, it ought to be viewed in terms of partnership.  Autistic people want to participate optimally wherever we go, so as a matter of course, we are motivated toward configuring our considerations as best we can in any given situation.  While no community or situation can match every ideal, autistic people are excellent collaborators in anticipating which situations may be more difficult to navigate and which may be made easier.  Knowing that the community is equally interested in supporting our well-being reflects the welcome we received in the beginning.  It is a natural consequence of being genuinely accepted, as implied by “welcome” itself.

Unfortunately, “welcoming” people with differences can quickly morph into, or be supplanted by, anxiety to accommodate.  “Problem-solving” may sound empowering, but in truth, such focus poses a greater barrier to inclusion than any reluctance to understand or accommodate.  Problem-solving defers welcoming the person by looking instead at what the community might be asked to do differently if this person is allowed in.

“Welcome” is a subtle but powerful word.  In keeping with its purest meaning, the challenge then becomes redefining how we carry that out.

 

 

 

A Word from Father Mark Nolette

(Ordinarily, Father Mark Nolette’s posts appear on his blog, The Anchorite.  If you have not yet seen his page or subscribed to his blog, it is well worth checking out.  Since his post today offers very timely support and validation for the autistic community, I am cross-posting here.  – Aimee O’Connell)

I begin with a statistic.  The New York Times reported this morning that the number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 worldwide, as of yesterday, is 160,000.  About half of these are in China.  On the one hand, if we focus on this number only, it seems rather small compared to the total population of the planet, which is estimated at over seven billion people.  This number is, for the moment, far smaller than the number of people who are infected with a typical late winter flu outbreak.  However, that’s not the number that has experts worried.  They believe that the number of cases will explode geometrically, becoming many times that number before the outbreak peaks.

How many times?

There we find a difference of opinion.  Last week, the New York Times reported on four possible scenarios for how many people in this country could be infected with coronavirus, and how many could die.  The estimates of infection range from 15% to 50% of the population.  The number of deaths range from 500k to 2 million.  The experts acknowledge that containment efforts, if applied, could reduce these estimates.  Moreover, because coronavirus is novel, no one knows if some people might have some immunity to it or not.

The fear we are feeling is not so much about the numbers of people who now have it, a number we can safely estimate.  The fear is about the uncertainty of how many people will eventually get it, and how bad it will be.  Moreover, given that a sizable number of people in this country do not trust scientific or medical experts, that compounds the uncertainty.  Moreover, the very existence of this virus among us makes us feel vulnerable.  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men (and all the king’s money) cannot drive it away.  No wall can keep it out.  We Americans are not used to feeling vulnerable.  This only heightens the anxiety.

What do we have, then? A grave level of fear and anxiety.  An overwhelming sense of impending doom. People grasping at any straw, even to the point of stockpiling toilet paper, in order to feel some sense of security or preparedness.  A sense of panic that may be more severe than the virus itself.

Welcome to the world of autistic people.

What I am seeing, as a priest and an autistic person, looks very much like autistic anxiety.  Some of the reactions I see look very much to me like autistic meltdown.  The anxiety I often feel before a weekend liturgy is something like this.  The anxiety I feel when something unexpected, like a funeral, enters my life is something like this.  The anxiety I feel when some future plan is still uncertain is something like this.  As an autistic person, I have needed to grapple with anxieties like these, learn to decipher them, and learn to live with them.  Therefore, I may be able to offer something from my experience as an autistic person that could help many other people during these trying times.

What have I learned that may be of help to others?

1) Things are not as bad as they feel. Yes, I am well aware of the danger of minimizing the risk of coronavirus. However, my sense is that the opposite is the greater danger; that people will panic and make the danger more than it really is.  Then, with panic in control, people do not think well. They may make choices that make the situation worse.  They may look for people to blame.  Sometimes, when I am celebrating Mass, it can feel as though I were the deer and the congregation were all hunters.  Now, there’s a kernel of truth in this. Social exposure of this kind is difficult for me.  However, it’s not quite as bad as it might feel for me at that moment.  In the same way, coronavirus is a real danger, but it’s not quite as bad as our panic might make it out to be.

2) We are not powerless. When anxiety becomes panic, we feel overwhelmed. We feel that we have no control, no options.  We learn to step back when this happens and remind ourselves that this is not true.  As an autistic person, I know that there are ways to manage anxiety.  There are also ways to address the outbreak and reduce the risk.  In managing anxiety, there are techniques like cognitive behavioral therapy, which help us examine our thoughts and see if they correspond to what really is.  Many people find that a few moments with camomile tea helps them soothe their nerves and be recollected.  Then, when anxiety and panic are more manageable, we can look at the actual situation and take appropriate action.  There are ways to significantly reduce our risk of catching or spreading coronavirus.

3) We must never deny or ignore our needs. This COVID-19 outbreak reminds us of our fundamental vulnerability as human beings.  We may find it difficult to acknowledge this vulnerability, to ourselves or to others.  We may feel the overwhelming temptation to camouflage those weak spots at all costs.  As an autistic person, I am well aware of my own vulnerabilities and limitations, especially in social situations.  Nevertheless, I have found that the stronger and more courageous thing to do is to acknowledge those vulnerabilities to myself and to others.  Paradoxically, this unlocks a strength in me and in others that makes all of us stronger.  Acknowledging our legitimate needs, and drawing healthy boundaries, are essential for our health and survival.  This is all the more true in the stressful situation we now find ourselves in.

4) We are not alone. Perhaps the greatest danger when we feel overwhelmed with intense anxieties, panic, or depression is the sense that each one of us is alone in this.  No one else could understand, we tell ourselves.  In this kind of isolation, we feel weaker.  We become easier prey to panic, depression and despair.  As an autistic person, I grew up with a profound sense of being “different” without being able to name that difference.  There were things about me that others could not understand, and there were things about others that I could not understand.  Though there is truth in this, there is also a danger – the danger of feeling ultimately alone in a dangerous world.  When I find others who share some of these attributes with me, I know I am not alone.  It is important for us all to share our anxieties and concerns with others so that we know we are not alone.

5) We are saved by Love.  Everything I have tried to say is summed up here.  It is Love that saves us.  It is Love that empowers us.  It is Love that assures us, above all, that we are not alone.  It is Love that we need more than any other thing.  And this Love is God.  As an autistic child, I felt more withdrawn from other people than I do now.  The first things to reach me were what some call “special interests” – my love for astronomy, dinosaurs, history, and many other things I began to discover.  Caught up in love for these things, I could easily talk your ear off, whereas I’d be silent most of the time otherwise.  Some see these interests as excessive and pathological.  Not necessarily.  They are meant, for the autistic person, to be a training ground for love.  Learning how to love these things helps us begin to love other people and, ultimately, to love God with that same total devotion that flows from the very marrow of our bones and the very cardiac tissue of our hearts.  All of us, faced with the fears caused by this outbreak, can renew our love for our own interests and, especially, for God who is Love.  It is this Love that ultimately frees us from panic and fear.  We need to do what we can to open ourselves as fully as possible to this Love.

This is why I have argued, and continue to argue, that we need the Sacraments and, especially, the Mass and the Eucharist at this time.  Yes, we should follow flu protocols and take all reasonable precautions to safeguard ourselves and our loved ones.  However, we cannot deny or ignore our need for Love.  Our need for Christ.  He has told us that we need to eat His Flesh and drink His Blood so that we might have the fullness of His life in us.  Christians of past centuries believed that this need was so fundamental that it was worth risking their lives for it.  That has not changed.  We need the Lord, and we need to follow His own teaching of how we can best receive His love.  Who could know this better than Him?

I leave you with this in the hope that my insight – that our experience of this outbreak parallels autistic experience – will be helpful, as well as my sharing of what I have learned from this.  It may be that this outbreak is a time when people who may have been shunned as eccentric or lacking in social graces may have something most valuable to offer the world.

May the love of the Lord be with us, now and always!

To Recognize and Value the Autistic Members of the Body of Christ

by Aimée O’Connell

The shift from Mission of Saint Thorlak to Autism Consecrated may seem to have come quickly from the front-end point of view.  However, the people behind the websites have felt the need for changes for some time now.  Adopting a new name and look reflects far more than simply rebranding or moving to a permanent webhost.

“We” – that is, myself, Father Mark Nolette and the people who regularly engage with us – are acutely and personally aware of the need for a better discussion of the theology of autism.  Where does autism fit into God’s plan?  Where do autistic people fit into God’s plan?  It’s not that the questions need asking… these questions have been asked about autism and every other disabling condition for decades, if not centuries, in some form.  It’s more the fact that the answers have remained the same, and are just as unsatisfactory, starting with the conceptualization of “disability” itself.  When a person approaches the community, the wider Body of Christ, with a condition that requires particular accommodations to facilitate their engagement and participation, we can just as easily say the community is “handicapped” [definition: “having a circumstance that makes progress or success difficult”] as many still call people with needful circumstances.

It is usually not helpful to debate if autism is a disability because autistic people find that our success often hinges on the amount of support and understanding we receive from those around us.  Difficult tasks are not as challenging when others recognize and adapt to our needs, and simple tasks seem impossible when we are held to the standards of images we do not fit.

Where, when, why, how does this discussion enter our parish lives?  Our communities?  Our dioceses?   As we prayed about how to fulfill our call as “missionaries” of the themes we promoted on the former website, it became clear that the need goes all the way down to the very foundation of our faith as Christians.  We cannot support one another without first asking How is autism experienced in the Body of Christ?   The answer tends to vary quite widely.  Some communities are living, thriving models of such natural inclusion that it is evident their identity rests in Christ Himself, as described by St. Paul.  Other communities are not there yet, for numerous reasons which deserve exploration without presuming the worst conclusions.

People of all ages and walks of life have a habit of forgetting that God creates life from love and fulfills in perfection.  Humans, by comparison, make objects.  It is appropriate to evaluate these objects, and even the materials from which they are made, in terms of purpose, utility and quality.  God has no need of such assessment.  From perfection comes perfection; therefore, all that God creates is useful and purposeful by the mere fact that God is God.  We do well to keep that in mind when considering the value of including, understanding, inviting and adapting to the needs of one another, as individuals and as communities.  Exclusion arises when we slip into seeing one another in terms of what we can do, how well we function, or where we fit in… instead of recalling that we all bear the same value as children of God by virtue of our personhood.  People are not objects.  We do not have utility.  Perhaps we have skills and ideas which can be judged as useful or superfluous, but in terms of our membership in any community, we have all been endowed with inherent value by God.

Autism does not exist independent of those who bear the traits qualifying them for that description. Autism only exists in the context of a common humanity: the autistic persons + how they are valued by the community. Click to Tweet
And so, we come together as Autism Consecrated, to recognize and value the autistic members of the Body of Christ.