How heartening to hear that more churches are taking steps to make Mass more welcoming for neurodiverse parishioners and their families.
I loved reading about sensory friendly Mass and the gentle guide to help autistic people, and anyone else who might be overwhelmed, navigate their experience; and I loved knowing St Declan’s in Penshurst is welcoming other parishes to use their resource as a template.
Those are the two ways things get done: By putting in the legwork and making the actual product, and then by sharing it generously so the most people can benefit. So often you see either one or the other, but not both.
It occurs to me that something similar is necessary for just about any project. You need both a good plan, and good will. And if you have to choose one, I’d probably choose good will.
Imagine a church where there just aren’t enough priests to do a sensory-friendly Mass. Unfortunately, this is common. But good will is something that absolutely any parish and any lay person can offer, whether there is a special sensory friendly Mass and guide, or not. Let me give some examples:
If you see a kid or an adult with an electronic device, assume there’s a good reason for it. Possibly they are undisciplined slaves to the screen who are walling themselves off from the holy liturgy, but it’s also very likely they use the device to follow along; or maybe they use it to ground themselves so they’re able to stay in the pew, rather than fleeing.
Maybe it’s actually a medical device that they’re using to monitor their health or deliver medications to their system. There are so many kinds of electronic devices out there, and so many different legitimate reasons to use them, we really just can’t assume it’s just someone being bored and seeking entertainment.
If someone gets there late or leaves early, or has to leave their seat frequently, this is entirely their business, so we should avoid craning our necks or acting like it’s a giant inconvenience to get out of their way.
They may have overcome incredible obstacles to be there at all, and if people glare at them or act like they’re a burden, they may just stay home next week. Our attitude toward every single person in the pew should be, “Hooray! You made it.”
If someone is dressed oddly or inappropriately, that is also entirely their business, and staring or, God forbid, offering advice or correction is not our job. It’s very possible a weird outfit is what made it possible for someone to be comfortable or confident enough to go see Jesus, and again, our attitude should be, “Hooray! You’re here.”
I could go on, but you get the point. There are vanishingly few reasons to be disapproving at other people at Mass. I often think of the story Fulton Sheen’s niece tells about her uncle the venerable archbishop. She said that, as he walked down the streets of the city, people would often ask for money, and he would generally give them $20.
Sometimes people would ask how he knew they really needed it? What if they were lying or cheating him? And he would respond: I can’t take that chance.
That’s how it is. If we end up being generous or patient with each other, they really may not deserve the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they’re just inconsiderate, irreverent jerks who need a quick reality check about basic decent behaviour.
But maybe they—or their parents, or their caretakers—are having a hard time, and the thing that’s annoying the rest of us a little bit is massively important to them. Maybe it’s the thing that’s making the difference between them being at Mass, or never going to Mass again. We really can’t take the chance.