Autism Consecrated®

Tag: inclusion

  • Autistic Men and the Priesthood: Welcoming Embrace or Grudging Tolerance?

    Anchorite

    by Father Mark P. Nolette

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

     Luke 1:1-4 (NRSV Catholic translation)

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

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

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

    • The McGrath Report

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

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

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

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

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

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

    • The National Catholic Register Article

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

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

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

    • The Word on Fire Article

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

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

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

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

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

    • Concluding Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

  • Guest post: Deacon Mark Paine responds to “Strange Vocations” by Word on Fire’s Mark Bradford

    Link to original post: https://deaconmarkblog.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/a-response-to-strange-vocations-a-new-and-welcomed-conversation-about-priestly-eligibility-by-mark-bradford/

     

    I read Mark Bradford’s article, ‘Strange Vocations: A New and Welcomed Conversation About Priestly Eligibility’, with great interest. The fact that Catholic commentators are now openly discussing the possibility that autistic and other neurodivergent men might be called to ordained ministry represents real progress. For too long, disability and neurodiversity have been treated as barriers to vocation rather than as dimensions of human experience through which God may call people to serve His Church.
    Yet as an autistic deacon, I found myself uncomfortable with some of the assumptions contained in the article, and the language used to describe autistic people.

    The article welcomes discussion about admitting men with autism, ADHD and other conditions which the report it discusses describes as “significant formative deficits”. While the author is quoting the terminology of the report, the effect is nevertheless significant. Autism is immediately framed as a deficit, a lack, a problem requiring careful management.

    Many autistic people would challenge this description. I certainly would.

    Autism certainly brings challenges. I know this from lived experience. I have experienced severe anxiety, exhaustion from masking, and a lifelong sense of being somehow “wrong”. Yet autism is not simply a collection of deficits. It is a way of experiencing, processing and engaging with the world. It shapes how I encounter God, how I listen to people, and how I understand vulnerability and marginalisation. To speak of autism principally through the language of deficit risks overlooking the gifts and insights that autistic people bring to the Church.

    More fundamentally, I believe the article asks the wrong question.

    The central question appears to be whether autistic people can be suitable candidates for priesthood. But from an autistic perspective, the more important question may be whether seminary formation is capable of recognising and nurturing autistic vocations in the first place.

    Throughout my own formation, I often feared that autism would be regarded as a deal-breaker. Every assessment felt like a test of whether I could successfully perform neurotypical expectations. I worried that difference would be mistaken for deficiency. The problem was not a lack of vocation. The problem was an environment that often assumed one particular way of communicating, learning, socialising and expressing competence.

    This distinction matters.

    Too often, discussions about autistic candidates focus on what autistic people might lack rather than examining the institutional structures that create barriers. The unspoken assumption is that the candidate must adapt to the formation system. Rarely do we ask whether the formation system itself requires adaptation.

    If seminaries reward eye contact, social confidence, rapid verbal responses and ease in unfamiliar social situations, they may inadvertently be assessing conformity to neurotypical behaviour rather than fitness for ordained ministry. An autistic candidate may be judged as lacking “human formation” when in reality he is carrying an exhausting burden of masking and anxiety simply to appear acceptable.

    Another concern is the article’s reliance on the concept of the “ideal” candidate.

    The article acknowledges that considering autistic men for priesthood challenges existing assumptions about what an ideal seminarian looks like. But some autistic readers may ask why such an ideal exists at all. The Gospel consistently overturns human expectations concerning who is suitable for ministry. The Church is served not by a single personality type but by people with diverse gifts, weaknesses and experiences.

    Autistic priests and deacons may bring qualities that are especially valuable in ministry: honesty, authenticity, attention to detail, deep commitment to truth, and solidarity with those who feel excluded or misunderstood. These should not be regarded as compensations for disability but as genuine pastoral gifts.

    Perhaps the most significant omission in the wider conversation is the relative absence of autistic voices themselves.

    We have become accustomed to experts discussing autistic people, assessing autistic people and developing policies about autistic people. What is too often missing are the voices of autistic Catholics describing their own experiences of vocation, formation and ministry. Discussions about inclusion become more authentic when those with lived experience are not merely consulted, but placed at the centre of the conversation.

    The future of this discussion should therefore move beyond questions of eligibility.

    The Church should certainly discern candidates carefully. Not everyone is called to ordained ministry, autistic or otherwise. But the goal cannot simply be to determine whether autistic people can fit into existing structures. The deeper challenge is whether our structures themselves reflect the Church’s belief that every person is made in the image of God.

    Formation should not require autistic people to hide who they are. It should help them become more fully themselves in Christ. A truly Catholic approach to formation would recognise neurodiversity not as a problem to be overcome, but as one of the many ways in which God’s image is reflected in humanity.

    The question before us is not merely whether autistic people belong in seminaries. The question is whether seminaries and formation programmes are prepared to become places where autistic people can genuinely belong, flourish and respond to the call of God without first having to disguise the people God created them to be.

    https://www.wordonfire.org/articles/strange-vocations-a-new-and-welcomed-conversation-about-priestly-eligibility/

  • Autism and the Imago Dei

    Autism and the Imago Dei

    Guest blog post by Deacon Mark Paine of the Archdiocese of Birmingham, UK

    Deacon Mark Paine, who himself is autistic, is developing a Catholic theological understanding of neurodivergence. In this post, he reflects upon autism and how it reflects the Image and Likeness of God.

    I have been reflecting on the Imago Dei—that we are made in the image and likeness of God.

    It is a phrase we use often.

    In sermons.
    In teaching.
    In conversation.

    And rightly so.

    But I am not sure we have fully reckoned with what it means when we speak of autism.

    Because there remains, even now, an assumption—sometimes quiet, sometimes more visible—that autism is something separate from the person.

    Something additional.
    Something regrettable.
    Something to be accommodated, if not overcome.

    But that is not how autism is lived.

    It is not at the edges.

    It is woven through the whole of a person’s life.

    Through how the world is encountered.
    Through how others are understood.
    Through how God is sought.

    And that matters.

    Because if we are to speak truthfully as the Church, we cannot say that autistic people bear the image of God apart from their autism.

    We must say, more plainly, that they bear the image of God as they are.

    Anything less begins to divide the person.

    And that is not a Christian way of seeing.

     

    The diaconal calling is, at its heart, a ministry of attention.

    To notice.
    To stand alongside.
    To serve at the place where Christ is already present, often unrecognised.

    And it seems to me that this is precisely where autism meets the Church.

    Not as a problem to be solved.

    But as a presence to be recognised.

    Because there is, within autistic experience, a particular kind of attentiveness.

    A concern for truth.
    A resistance to pretence.
    A willingness—sometimes costly—to remain with what is real rather than what is merely expected.

    That does not always sit comfortably within our patterns of church life.

    But discomfort is not the same as absence.

    So perhaps the question is a simpler one than we sometimes make it.

    Not whether autistic people can be included.

    But whether we are prepared to see what is already there.

    And that may take time.

    It may take a willingness to look again at things we have taken for granted.

    It may mean recognising that what appears unfamiliar is not therefore lacking.

    But if the Imago Dei is truly present—
    then it is already there to be seen.

    And perhaps, quietly,
    to be received.

    For more reflections by Deacon Mark, visit his blog, Marcus Diaconus

  • An Apology

    An Apology

    Very late yesterday, we learned from friends in Ireland that a Mass of Reparation would be offered at 3pm Dublin time today. This was very carefully and thoughtfully put together by a group of faithful individuals who pray weekly for healing the ways our society approaches autism and autistic people. The weekly intentions include resolutions to better understand and promote neurodiversity and to make amends for errors in understanding which have led to the harmful stereotypes and alienation of autistic people we are all too familiar with.

    These friends eagerly described this as a Mass of Reparation for the times when autistic lives have not been valued. It seemed like ideal timing, between April’s being dubbed “Autism Month” and the recent public statements made by the US Department of Health and Human Services which starkly revealed the underbelly of societal attitudes – which most people don’t want to admit are still there, but are ultimately just as dehumanizing toward autistic people as any of the darkest periods of human history.

    What a gift. The chief person organizing this Mass is herself late-diagnosed autistic and is personally invested in making things better for neurodivergent people worldwide. She helped draft what would be the Prayers of the Faithful, asking for and using suggestions from Autism Consecrated, and was very excited to see this come together.

    And then? After we shared this good news and invited autistic people worldwide to join us, it all got changed at the very last minute.

    No longer a Mass of Reparation, it was a Mass for “People Affected By Autism.”

    The Prayers of the Faithful were hastily rewritten – by someone who isn’t (to my knowledge) autistic.

    The only time the word “autistic” was used was when our friend managed to sneak it in, saying that she herself is autistic. All other mentions reverted to “people affected by autism,” which is the term used by people who do not care that autistic people like being called autistic people, and that the phrase “affected by autism” perpetuates the stereotypes for which we hoped to make reparation.

    In short: The Mass intentions requested in good faith by autistic people were hijacked and rewritten to conform to neurotypical sensibilities.

    Yes, you read that correctly. Autistic voices – autistic pleadings in prayer –  were silenced, ignored, and overridden by nonautistic voices who assume they know better.

    The intentions which are dearly important and meaningful to us were DELETED and replaced by intentions from a neurotypical perspective. This happened mere minutes before Mass began, giving us no time to react, or to protest, or to ask why.

    THIS IS WRONG ON EVERY LEVEL.

    This was supposed to be a Mass affirming the value of autistic lives. That cannot happen when autistic voices are censored and our intentions completely changed.

    Autism Consecrated offers our most sincere apology to those who expected what we expected. We had no idea our Mass would be turned into the very thing we intended to heal from and to make reparation about.

    We are truly sorry.

    And we will continue to pray, to offer personal prayers for reparation, and to persist in our mission to realize autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ.

     

  • Autism As Mission

    Autism As Mission

    We have written previously that autistic people are less likely to attend Mass than non-autistic people (e.g., our 2023 post, “Raise Your Hand If You’re Not Here”).

    Our Daily Prayer for Autism’s Belonging for the Second Wednesday of Lent reads like this: “We pray for our autistic members who are not able to participate in Church liturgies and activities. May our autistic members be genuinely missed when absent. May we prayerfully consider what the barriers might be to their participation, and what the community can do to help address and relieve those.”

    Which barriers might come to mind?

    • Sensory load
    • Health (both mental and physical)
    • Energy level (vs. exhaustion)
    • Quality of sleep (vs. chronic sleep deficit)
    • Executive functioning
    • Access to transportation

    While each of these is relevant, if we are to be completely honest, we need to go further and acknowledge that – consciously or not – the community’s attitude toward neurodiversity is often the biggest and most difficult barrier. People may say outwardly that they welcome and encourage people of all abilities to come to Mass, but there remains a deep interior skepticism that autism is anything more than pop psychology’s attempt to stylize laziness and apathy toward decorum. These attitudes are not only grossly incorrect, but also do nothing to build up the Body of Christ. If anything, autistic members are isolated and wounded by this barrier more than all the others combined.

    Ask any autistic person: If we were able to overcome such barriers as these through our own efforts and willpower, we would do so. Trying harder is not enough – and not within our grasp. Telling ourselves not to feel [exhausted, overwhelmed, anxious] is as useless as telling our cars to keep going when the fuel gauge reads “empty.” Our capacities and limits are what they are, and pushing past them is harmful, period. Those who encourage us to do so are operating on faulty, outdated, and disproven information.

    Some have become so accustomed to the idea that merit is earned by acting well that they confuse patience and compassion for “special treatment.” But accommodations for autistic people are no more indulgent (or optional) than the “special treatment” shown by, say, bandaging and resting a sprained ankle… or by using supplemental oxygen when scuba diving.

    Autistic people really do want to be present and participate. If we can’t remove the barriers for ourselves, what can we do?

    Trust that we serve God best as our authentic selves, needs and all.

    Diverting our energy from trying to live past our means starts by trusting God’s wisdom. Our capacities and limitations were designed, with purpose, by Our Creator. Trust that God intends some members of the Body of Christ to process at a different pace, to be deeply affected by what we see and hear and taste and ponder, and, yes, to need patience and assistance from others as a result of our body’s design. Trust that God calls even those of us whom the world writes off to be disciples. Believe that the fruit of this discipleship is cultivated in part by the extra time, extra space and extra understanding which will allow us to be present and contribute.

    It requires this same trust to ask and expect the community to help us in our needs, and that is how offering our autism – by just being our authentic selves –  becomes mission work, even when that  mission brings us to confront the situations which  find us:

    – misunderstood, unseen, or unheard by our community

    – unaccommodated, despite repeated asking

    – unable to participate, especially when large groups are our only option

    – asking more questions than people would like

    – overwhelmed and dysregulated, even when we are doing the best we can

    In other words, the mission of being autistic includes challenging the way our communities respond to differences and disabilities, and living in such a way as to break the stereotypes perpetuating the misunderstanding and isolation which keep us from fully realizing our vocations as disciples.  When we focus on suppressing and hiding our autistic traits, we miss out (and so does the entire community) on what happens when we put that energy instead into being who God made us to be – which St. Catherine of Siena says will set the world ablaze with God’s grace!

    Lord, let us be a sign by which stereotypes can be challenged. May our communities appreciate why we wear ear defenders and tinted glasses to Mass, and why we might sit in a separate place with additional sensory supports.  May our fellow parishioners experience God’s grace when lowering the lights, reducing the volume, and providing space which helps autistic people engage much more fully in worship. May our autistic discipleship be a source of grace and blessing to our communities.

    Lord: Hear our prayer!

     

  • A Word On Our Daily Prayers For Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ

    A Word On Our Daily Prayers For Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ

    Those who are praying along with our daily intentions this Lent will notice that each day’s prayer examines an aspect of neurodiversity which many may not have considered. We are seeking to shift the stereotyped sense of autism as problematic symptoms and misbehavior toward a deeper realization that autistic expressions are very human, very functional ways people respond and attempt to cope when our processing system is flooded. Most people know what it’s like to feel overloaded. The difference is, autistic people’s processing systems reach capacity at a higher frequency, and overload when we are asked to keep pushing. Our bodies absorb every bit of data from our surroundings at once, filling all available processing slots quickly to capacity without the benefit of extra time to sort it all out. As with the famous chocolate factory scene from “I Love Lucy”, we do what we can to keep up, but pretending we are fine only makes things worse. Unless that conveyor belt slows down or we get the support we need to finish, we know how this is going to end. Except – for autistic people – we’re not laughing. More like, it is devastating, each and every time. It is exhausting. It is humiliating to have to ask for help, all the time… and, it’s even more so when we are met with those who think the way to help us is to shape our behavior for us. “Try harder! You can do it if you really apply yourself!” – No. We can’t.

    But here’s what we want to convey: Any person’s capacity to participate in anything – including social activities, learning environments, and worship services – requires the ability to process information and engage with others. When our sensory systems are bombarded with more input than we can process, autistic or not, our bodies shift from relaxed participation to high alert.  If we do not take time and space to catch up with what we are already processing, our fight/flight/freeze reflexes start acting like circuit breakers, systematically shutting down extraneous processes (such as social graces, small talk, and creative thinking) as a last-ditch effort to keep our processing afloat. Most of us can recall a time when we felt frazzled by too many people speaking at once or too many demands coming in at the same time. If someone approaches us right then with a bit of unrelated conversation or unsolicited advice, we can well imagine what our response might look like… and, most neurotypical people would make plenty of allowance for why this is reasonable. Why, then, is it unreasonable when autistic people experience this (which we do)? Hint: It’s not unreasonable. It just happens more frequently, and more intensely, because our loads are constantly full, and traditionally, people have been told to “help” us by making us struggle. These prayers are intended, in part, to show the other side of this.

    The crucial point to remember: Neurodivergent minds are flooded with simultaneous processing tasks, all the time. The way we look, sound, act, and cope, is a reflection of how well – or not – we are able to keep up with those processes at any given moment.

    Corollary: The degree of assistance, patience, and accommodations we receive from others around us helps determine the ease with which we can participate and engage with others.

    Autistic people deal with this all day, every day. It is not something that can be trained out of us. We can’t be cajoled into doing better. We look and act the way we do because we are at capacity, all the time, even when other people are not.

    Why do we take such deliberate care in phrasing our intentions? In hopes of helping the wider Church see that autistic traits are not moral failings, and are not conquerable with the right attitude. Autistic traits are expressions of the same Body of Christ in which we are all members. Our experiences are more intense, and our capacities are reached sooner and more frequently than neurotypical members. The point to remember is that our needs are the same human needs as the rest of the Body – not subhuman needs, as original models of autism would lead us to believe, and not willfully lazy, self-absorbed, oppositional, or anti-social.

    The extra time, extra space, extra patience, and gentler environments which autistic people utterly need to participate in ordinary things of life are arguably conditions which benefit anyone. Who among us does not feel a bit of relief when someone shows us empathy and helps us out when we are struggling? Which then begs the question: why are so many people so reluctant to allow these things? Why is slowing down, making things easier, and softening the sensory environment seen as “giving in” instead of giving the Body an oasis of desperately needed neurological rest, where all of us – including and especially autistic people –  can heal?

     

    Lord, Hear Our Prayer!

  • Lenten Resolutions

    Lenten Resolutions

    by Aimée O’Connell

     

    With the season of Lent just up ahead, I would like to offer Autism Consecrated’s take on Lenten resolutions. Boiled down, these would be something like this:

    • Learn about my neurobiological infrastructure
    • Live within my neurobiological means
    • Patiently, politely, cheerfully refuse* to exceed those means
    • Consecrate my neurodivergence to God, offering Him all that I am, that I may bear witness to autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ

    (* This phrase, “cheerfully refuse,” is a direct nod to the title used by Leif Enger in his 2024 novel. That wording captures how I strive to face confrontation when trying to be faithful to my needs, and I express my sincere gratitude for his giving the world that phrase.)

    Awhile back, I was asked in an interview what advice I might give to autistic individuals and families who are seeking to strengthen their connections to God and their faith communities. My response from then fits very well with the way I recommend forming our Lenten resolutions.

    First: Understand what autism is, and what it is not.  Learn about autism from neuroaffirming sources and from fellow autistic people. 

    Second: Consider that the autistic neurotype is part of God’s design, and contemplate the intentionality of that being part of our lives.  How have the autistic aspects of our lives shaped us, and how have they shaped the people around us? 

    Third: Consider consecrating our autism to God, that He may lead us to where we will be most fruitful, exactly as we are.

    Fourth: Be forthright with our needs. The more comfortable we are with our limitations, the more others will become comfortable supporting them. It takes mutual, voluntary humility to admit when we don’t know what to do but are willing to support one another in figuring that out together. 

    Fifth: Never forget that God loves us and knows our limitations. So long as we sincerely desire to grow ever closer to God, we cannot let Him down or disappoint Him simply because we are neurodivergent or are struggling to keep up with the obligations and demands on our processing. 

    Sixth: Keep the conversation going as long as it takes for the people in our parishes to better understand and support its autistic members of all ages, not just children.  And: Remember that starting a “conversation” does not necessarily require speaking or depend on traditional communication. It was St. Francis who said we do well to preach the Gospel at all times, but use words only when necessary… and it was the one-person-at-a-time example of St. Thorlak, not his words, which comprised his legacy and led to his canonization. Being authentically and cheerfully who we are, autistic and all, is mission work to the rest of the Church.

    Once again this year, Autism Consecrated is offering Daily Intentions for Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ as a season-long deep-dive into various aspects of neurodivergence, seeking in prayer to build better understanding of and support for neurodiversity in our parish communities. These daily reflections serve as a prayer for the Church, but can also be a means of learning more about our neurobiological infrastructure, in line with the Lenten resolutions suggested above. The Daily Prayers for Autism’s Belonging are free for individuals and groups (including parishes) to pray, print, download and share.

    Likewise, The Scriptural Stations of the Cross for Autistic People by autistic Catholic priest Fr. Mark Nolette are based on his firsthand experiences and a desire to unite the gifts and challenges of neurodivergence to the suffering and redemption of Jesus. This devotion may be accessed directly on our website or downloaded in print and audio formats (English).

    And then, the Prayer to Consecrate Autism is also on our website, free to access and download and pray for ourselves or on behalf of someone close to us.

    Let us all pray that the upcoming season of Lent will be fruitful for all of us, in the ways we need that most.

     

     

     

     

     

  • The Better Part

    The Better Part

    by Aimée O’Connell, T.O.Carm.

     

    In a previous post, I talked about how tricky it can be to recognize the signs of neurodivergent burnout, how long-term masking can contribute to impostor syndrome, and how these factors together create significant obstacles to our spiritual health. In my opinion, this is where the Church needs to focus attention when asking how to reach out to and support neurodivergent members. We need to ask: What can the Church do that isn’t already being done by service agencies, advocacy groups and autism professionals? How can the Church speak to the humanity of the people we want to reach?

    In my opinion, we do well to be less concerned about “best practices” and more concerned with simply spending time with Christ before us. In terms of the story of Martha and Mary of Bethany, we can say there are more than enough Marthas in the world with programs and protocols that help us feel like we’re “doing something” for autistic people. Yet – burnout and impostor syndrome still persist, even within the Church. Maybe that’s because the world (and the Church) is lacking the necessary balance provided by the Marys, who lead with an intuitive, often impractical sense of hospitality instead of following the expedient but impersonal suggestions contained in the three-ring binders of the Marthas.

    I say this while considering those things which most often contribute to burnout and impostor syndrome, such as:

    • Forcing our executive functioning to operate at a pace it is not designed for or equipped to handle
    • Rationing our accommodations and supports for “once in awhile” or “only when we struggle” – when our need for neurological support is at all times
    • Setting goals for ourselves based on neurotypical benchmarks and assumptions which our neurological infrastructure cannot sustain
    • Acting as though neurodivergent differences are a question of “mind over matter” and can be extinguished through positive thinking, behavioral conditioning, dying to self, and other such maxims
    • Embracing these maxims as good discipline without first asking who (or what) we are seeking to serve, or why
    • Quantifying our worth in worldly terms such as social capital or tangible contributions
    • Adhering to disproven assumptions about neurodivergence made by neurotypical people (which were never accurate, and have been greatly amended in recent academic and professional discussions)

    Mary of Bethany may not have set out to subvert the tyranny of custom, but she certainly made that statement when she “wasted” so much of her time and expensive oil on Jesus. And yet, we do well not to confuse her behavior with fawning: Mary was neither making a spectacle of her devotion nor trying to gain favor with Jesus. In my estimation, she was simply acting on a deeply intuitive sense of hospitality, and doing a rather good job at that.

    In Mary of Bethany, neurodivergent people might find someone who knows not to hurry us when we need extra time to get to the point.… who knows not to cajole or prod us on when we say we’ve reached our limit… who knows how to adjust plans because the opportunity to sit with Christ is more important than making him adhere to the activity agenda… who generously provides for our sensory comfort even in the face of scorn and ridicule and comments about enabling us, as she knows instinctively that our bodies engage and respond to human connection more easily when we are not overwhelmed by light, sound, texture, dampness, smell and temperature fluctuations.

    We can guess that Mary of Bethany’s hospitality does not worry about scarcity, especially when the One who fed the five thousand on five loaves is really and truly present. And, if Jesus had some “special need” which required an extra “something” to relieve that distress during His stay, Mary would think it absurd to only make that available on a schedule (like, say, every third visit to Bethany, or once every three months, whether Jesus is in Bethany or not) … or to pretend not to notice His need because she didn’t want the apostles to feel left out… or to leave Jesus in His distress because He needs to learn to cope on His own.

    Back to the actual story: What does Jesus say when Mary is called out for her foolishness, ignoring protocol, acting inexpediently, and encouraging wastefulness and indulgence?

    “Mary has chosen the better part.”

    Mary, it seems, is not blindly obedient to maxims. Mary’s Lord is the One she welcomes without hesitation – not the Lord of Normal, who demands conformity and measures transgressions in standard deviations.

    How do people of faith address burnout and impostor syndrome? By asking ourselves which Lord we serve. By not prioritizing appearances and protocol over Christ, Who dwells within us and sits before us. By choosing the better part.

     

     

  • Icebergs on icebergs

    Icebergs on icebergs

    Picking up where we left off…

    Autism Consecrated is hoping to start specifically naming the underlying things which erode our spiritual health, in hopes that identifying them will help the wider church community better understand and support ND needs. This iceberg here is itself the tip of a bigger iceberg (perhaps an entire armada of them) where our faith is concerned. Things like examinations of conscience, teasing out morally neutral neurodivergent traits from what is consciously sinful (without getting tangled up in criticisms which do not account for our legitimate processing differences), prayer, fellowship, engagement with scripture, why we need sensory support EVERY WEEK and not just once every three months at a “special” service… and many more. So much has yet to be addressed by people in the Church to acknowledge the gaping holes in our spiritual formation and support. The Church needs to hear from autistic people about our experiences and struggles, and autistic people need to feel safe and heard in sharing them. Let us pray this will happen.

     

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

    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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