Neurodivergent hospitality is not a contradiction

by Aimée O’Connell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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.