Prayers for World Autism Day 2024

In recognition of World Autism Day 2024, we are pleased to offer a Short Form of our Prayer Petitions for Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ. The Short Form is, like the full list, free to download, print, copy and share for any use, individually or in groups, including adaptation for Prayers of the Faithful at daily or weekly Mass. Likewise, this post may also be shared freely, that people in communities far and wide may join with us in prayer!

Download Page for short form: https://autismconsecrated.com/prayers-for-autism-belonging-short-form/

Download Page for full list: https://autismconsecrated.com/autism-consecrated-prayer-intentions-any-dates-2/

The short form is as follows.

Prayers For Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ

Heavenly Father, we offer these prayers to You, that we may humbly recognize where we stand, and where we fall short, in supporting the autistic community. We ask You to give us the grace of healing and reconciliation where wounds and division exist.

May we:

  • Realize, and counteract, language and attitudes which stigmatize and pathologize autism
  • See autistic social, emotional, and cognitive processing as equal in dignity to neurotypical processing
  • Design our space such that autistic people are not expected to mask, suppress or replace neurodivergent traits
  • Grow in empathy toward the experiences of autistic individuals
  • Embrace a spirit of humility, repentance and curiosity as we acknowledge where we still lack understanding and comprehension of the autistic experience, including:
    • Communication (including non-spoken communication)
    • Sensory processing and overload
    • Emotional processing, alexithymia, and hyperempathy
    • Information processing and overload
    • Performance pressure, social rejection, and exclusion
    • Hidden co-occurring conditions such as dyspraxia, dysautonomia, joint hypermobility, migraine, food sensitivity
  • Appreciate the presence of autistic members of the community, realizing that it is not possible to know if someone is or is not autistic by assumption, and that autism is present in all age groups
  • Ponder how many neurodivergent people in our community cannot be present because of a lack of support, and how we can extend to them the chance to authentically belong
  • Strive to make our community accessible, welcoming, and accepting to neurodivergent people
  • See the obstacles which prevent or impede neurodivergent people from being present in our community
  • Invite neurodivergent people in our community to lead, rather than be led; teach, rather than be taught; explain things to us, rather than be told how things are
  • Promote a culture of neurodiversity
  • Look to autistic members of the community for guidance and suggestions on how to support and maintain accessibility and regular participation by neurodivergent individuals
  • Outwardly demonstrate how striving to make our community more accessible to autistic members benefits everyone

May we seek forgiveness for the times we have:

  • Perpetuated inaccurate and unhelpful stereotypes
  • Allowed fear and pride to limit our generosity, creativity, and hospitality
  • Cited scarcity of resources in upholding the status quo
  • Relied on numbers to justify or deny accommodations, rather than upholding the value of the individual
  • Made assumptions or decisions for autistic individuals without their input
  • Failed to believe an autistic person’s experience
  • Turned an autistic person away from our community for being autistic
  • Lectured an autistic person about the unsuitability or inconvenience of their needs
  • Failed to include, invite, or respond to autistic individuals in community activities
  • Passed over an autistic person for volunteer or leadership positions, for the sake of their autism
  • Cast autistic traits as character flaws
  • Allowed convenience, popular opinion, fear, or jealousy to influence how we respond to requests for accommodations and accessibility
  • Required autistic individuals to suppress, mask, or eliminate neurodivergent traits in order to participate or belong

We ask this all in Jesus’ Name: Lord, hear our prayer!

AMEN.

 

Thank you for praying with us!

Looking ahead: Easter into April

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

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

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

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

Jesus, Re-member Us!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Further reading

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

Autism Consecrated grants full permission to print, share, save, forward, and distribute this calendar among individuals, groups and parishes.

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

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

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As we mourn in lonely exile here

by Aimée O’Connell

 

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

 

“To belong, you have to be missed;

to belong, you have to be named,

and enjoyed,

even in bodily absence;

and your absence has to be acknowledged

as an absence only from the physical space

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

 

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

 

 

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

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

 

Autism and Worship (A Book Review)

 

Look down from heaven and regard us

from your holy and glorious palace!

Where is your zealous care and your might,

your surge of pity?

Your mercy hold not back!

For you are our father.

Were Abraham not to know us,

nor Israel to acknowledge us,

You, Lord, are our father,

our redeemer you are named from of old.

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

with the mountains quaking before you!

Isaiah 63:15-16; 19

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– Fr. Mark Nolette

 

Raise your hand if you’re not here

by Aimée O’Connell

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

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

Mmm… not exactly.

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

Yes, you read that correctly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sampling of articles for further insight:

 

 

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.

 

 

 

PDA and Lent

Here is a very interesting question: How can we troubleshoot between having a PDA profile and the necessary demands presented by Lent?

 

There are a few guiding thoughts to help tailor Lent to the demand-anxious neurotype while keeping the intention and integrity of the season.

 

Creativity: Try to plan for Lent as a response to a design challenge.  The Church outlines three staple ingredients: Prayer, fasting and almsgiving.  What we do with them, how we bring these to life and in what way, is up to us.

 

Autonomy: For the most part, we get to decide what we do and how we do it.  The boundaries provided by the Church pertain to Ash Wednesday and Good Friday (where we are asked to begin and end the season with meatless fasting), and Fridays during Lent (where we are asked to abstain from meat).  We might think of these as signposts and checkpoints employing the method Our Lord used in preparing for His public ministry to mark off this time as our own period of sacred preparation.  We might also think of how we find ordinary places closed to commemorate certain occasions every year, and, likewise, our regular meal habits are “closed” on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and “partially closed” on regular Fridays during Lent, in commemoration of Our Lord’s sacrifices.

 

Low-Key: As with everything else, our Lenten practices will be more successful and meaningful if we strive to keep them nonchalant, low-impact and not all that drastic.  Aim for small steps rather than big ambitions.

 

Short-Term: Yes, Lent is 40 active days (and 46 days all together).  We can still make our plans day by day.  With demand anxiety and time blindness, sustaining anything more than a few days at a time runs the risk of not going well.

 

Rephrase: Words like “discipline” and “obligation” can be our downfall.  When we come up against these terms, why not turn to a thesaurus, or an etymology reference?  When we realize that “discipline” means “learning” and “obligation” gets its roots from the concept of giving thanks, the sense of demand is lessened.

 

Flexible terms: Be prepared for multiple contingencies.  Similarly, keep a wide field around the bull’s eye, so that coming close is an acceptable alternative to perfection.

Novelty: Related to creativity, this is a reminder to keep things interesting so that we feel motivated to continue.  Lent does not have to be monotonous.  Change it up often enough to keep going.

 

Menu approach: Sometimes, there are too many choices.  Sometimes, there is not enough structure.  Yet, too much structure feels confining and restrictive.  One way around this is to make a Lent menu to consult day by day, whereby we strive to balance our practices between variety and predictability.  A menu also allows us to put a check mark next to the things we’ve done so that we can see our progress and where our strengths are.

 

Spark love: Similar to that other phrase used in a popular and patented home management program, try to keep those things in our routine which “spark love” in our hearts for God, and move on from those things which do not.  Love is a good choice here because it can be both joyful and sacrificial.  When we strive to do things for the sake of love, chances are, these will be things we will find worth doing.

 

Equivalent substitutions: Many Lenten practices can become prickly, such as dietary changes or trying to give things up which help regulate our functioning.  Being hungry is one thing; being hangry is another.  We are sometimes not able to fast the way others can, and this is where creativity comes to the rescue again.  The idea is not to circumvent what’s difficult, but rather, to decide prudently what is and is not possible.  When we simply cannot fast, we can calculate the equivalent and make an offering with what we can – such as, matching (or exceeding) what we eat that day in a donation to a food pantry, or donating money/time-per-calorie to assist a cause in our area – either in person, or through prayer, remotely.

 

Pilgrimage: We can’t always make a retreat, keep up with Bible studies or attend prayer services.  We can, however, design our own spiritual pilgrimage in the form of any kind of sequential progression during the Lenten season.  We can move forward on this at our own pace, some days a little and some days a little more, and some days not at all.

 

Growth mindset: Instead of looking at what we do as pass/fail, growth mindset accepts that we do not yet have all the skills to be successful all of the time, but believe we can gradually move in the direction we want to go.  Essential to this is resolving not to compare ourselves to others or set our progress by others’ standards.  Curiosity, openness, humility and freedom from pressure are our tickets to growing in our spiritual lives as much as in any other area.

 

May God bless our efforts and reveal His love to us, in all that we do this Lent!

 

We Interrupt This Lent…

by Aimée O’Connell

 

Nearly three weeks into the Lenten season, I come to our readers with the following string of thoughts, under the category heading: NOTHING WE HAVE EVER HEARD ABOUT LENT WAS IMAGINED WITH NEURODIVERSE INDIVIDUALS IN MIND.

(Okay… since I am a stickler for avoiding absolutes, let’s say “Almost Nothing.”)

 

While the better time to post this might have been before Lent began, there’s something to be said about solidarity in the trenches.  By “trenches,” I mean the places where we find the people who…

  • Are still trying to think of what to do for Lent
  • Have tried adding things but have not yet made it happen consistently
  • Have tried giving things up but realize we don’t function well without them
  • Have sat staring at examinations of conscience and wondered when we will ever find one that applies to our lives
  • Have abandoned stacks of planners, devotionals, penitential calendars and mini-retreats which seemed like a great idea when we picked them up
  • Find Lent JUST TOO MUCH

 

Maybe this doesn’t apply to you (… congrats!).  Or, maybe you’re reading this and thinking this is not exclusively an autism or ADHD thing (… but I will say, even if that’s the case, I guarantee, we feel it much more intensely!)  Bottom line is, I don’t see much written about the particular challenges of Lent for the neurodiverse, and so, for those who find Lent penitential for the sake of its being unattainable: you are not alone!

 

My intention here is not to say that Lent should be jettisoned altogether, or that neurodiverse people should be dispensed from Lent.  What I do wish is that we could have some real resources available for the neurodiverse, a list of Lent Hacks for us to familiarize ourselves with and practice here and there so that when the actual season rolls around, we have something proven to work with.  I don’t claim to have the answers, but I do have a growing list of thoughts.

 

For starters: We need to define Lent consistently and concisely.  What IS Lent?  We know it is a time of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, intended to remind us that our purpose in life is to love God with all our hearts, minds, souls and strength, and to pattern our lives around loving God, particularly in how we treat others.  Some will say it is a time to steer our focus back to God and away from the distractions of worldly entertainments and luxuries.  Some will say it is a time to make room for God amidst the clutter of our lives.  Some will say it is a time to discard the things that tempt us away from God, or a time to develop habits of prayer, meditation and contemplation.  All of this sounds good, in a very general sense; but, for the neurodiverse, it can also sound too broad… not specific enough… not tangible, not measurable – and, therefore, not anything we can grasp, physically or conceptually.

 

What about when the things other people consider “luxuries” are, for us, necessities?  Who decides what constitutes luxury? If we go by what the devotional guides say, we end up going without things that we absolutely rely on, such as grocery delivery and prepared meals.  Even more difficult is teasing out what others consider “entertainments” which, again, for us, are necessities.  Many, many neurodiverse people can regulate, cope and function better with help from electronic devices with screens.  Many of us communicate and connect with others over electronic devices in ways we simply cannot do in person.  Who gets to decide what is adaptive and assistive, and what is “luxury” or “entertainment”?  I never see that distinction made in suggested acts of penance or fasting… just the same urging to switch off our screens so that we can be more present to the people around us.  (If that were possible, we’d have already done it).  Where is the line drawn between acts of penance and denying ourselves basic needs?  And why is it okay to lump the things that neurodiverse people successfully rely on to function, in with the things deemed superfluous by neurotypical people, without some kind of qualification?  Does anyone ever suggest giving up other assistive and adaptive accommodations that are acceptable standards for other disabilities?  Is it ever printed in a Lenten devotional, “Just for today, leave your walker or cane home” – or, “For these forty days, stop relying on closed captioning, and rely on God instead” – ?

 

What about when our executive functioning does not know the difference between “distractions” and “important items”?  Do the authors of Lenten devotionals realize that, for some people, what you call “distractions” are an integral part of our panoramic, multisensory processing, and can’t just be given up?  Moreover, if what others call distractions are a way of life for us, is any spiritual growth even possible?  All I’ve seen are essays and dissertations saying that distractions are our downfall.  There goes another category of things that sound good for typical people, but don’t apply to us, unless difficulties with executive functioning really do disqualify us as saints.

 

Another question: How can we know which way to pray best, when the suggestion is to “pray more”?  What if we have difficulty keeping all our tasks in mind for any given day, and are doing well, but do not have the cognitive flexibility to stop midstream and pray?  What if our functioning is stretched to its limit already? What can we give up, to make time for prayer, when we struggle with time-blindness?  What if praying feels too verbal for us on any given day?  We are taught that mental prayer takes focus and years of discipline, and requires things like stillness and interior silence which does not often come easily to the neurodivergent.  We may be outwardly silent, but inwardly, the trains of thought are running on multiple tracks at full capacity.  We don’t have the cognitive ability to just stop.  Where is that accounted for, in Lenten guides and spiritual direction?

 

As an autistic adult, I find the Lenten guides for children easier to use and follow than those intended for grown-ups.  It is easier for me to concretely count out some of my possessions with the idea of donating them, or to budget out a certain percentage of my income or savings for charity.  It is easier to count prayers or minutes or check-boxes than to try and do an assessment of my life and my habits – because my environment and my routines are all wrapped up in the wild and crazy way I make sense of the world and function in it.  And yet – when I pray by rote, and write checks because it’s the time of year to do so… it doesn’t feel any different afterward.  I’ve done my duty.  How does that bring me closer to God?

 

Making a list of Lenten Resolutions has likewise proven ineffective for many of us, mainly because it is the equivalent of taking our familiar flight plan and adding in several detours and extra stops – without the allowance of more time in the itinerary.  Calling our routines “autopilot” is not a bad thing at all.  Autopilot is a reliable means of getting from Point A to Point B in the face of all kinds of variables, interference and conditions.  Taking a plane off autopilot is not a guaranteed disaster, but it requires an enormous and constant expenditure of attention, energy and action.  While we can fairly say it will develop discipline among the flight crew, it will also put everyone on high alert and raise the potential for going off course and encountering difficulties, and demands our full, constant and immediate attention.  We all know that voluntarily adding stress to our already-stretched-too-thin processing systems is a straight line to crash and burn.  Changing our routines for Lent – at least, among the neurodiverse – is not a very useful idea; and yet, that seems to be the overarching theme to most Lent devotionals and calendars.

 

More and more, I see the need – a desperate need – for new wineskins for neurodiverse people.  We need guidance on how to approach Lent in the ways we are wired to approach anything.  We need permission to pass up the devotionals, calendars and suggested penances which are written for neurotypical lifestyles.  We need better examinations of conscience, written by neurodiverse individuals for neurodiverse individuals, so that we do not keep treating our failure to align with neurotypical standards as sinful.  Of course we sin, of course we are in need of forgiveness – but how many sinful habits have evolved from trying to do things in ways not suited to our wiring?  How much confusion comes from compromising our needs because we have been conditioned from the youngest age that it is of utmost importance to satisfy others?  How many times has our character been called into question over things we genuinely cannot change about ourselves?

 

We need to hear more from neurodiverse clergy, supported by more and better understanding of neurodiversity by the Church.  This is something I pray for every day.  I would like to see a prayer calendar with forty days’ reflections on how our Church can grow in this understanding and need for support.  I would imagine this would benefit the entire Body of Christ, not just the neurodiverse.

 

For now, my working plan is to see Lent as a season during which we invite Our Lord to show Himself to us in our lives, and to show us the ways our lives can be offered (i.e., made meaningful) to Him.  How does He use our neurodiversity to build the Kingdom of God?  How does the witness of our lives reflect Him to those in our orbit?  Do we spend more of our energy trying to know, love and serve Him in neurotypical ways than in ways that we are naturally wired to be?  Do we trust that He does not ask us to extend ourselves past our neurodivergent limits?  Do we trust that it is better to say “no” to resolutions that are not compatible with (and even harmful to) our physical, sensory or social processing?

 

It takes real courage to step out of the boxes other people would have us in, and be authentically and vulnerably who we are.  To me, that is the most radical offering we can make.

 

The Urgent Need: Autistic Mission

by Aimée O’Connell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus, I raise the alarm.

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

This needs to stop.

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

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

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

It’s time to model this for the Church.

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

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

May God help us all in our mission.