As Catholics, we place a great importance on being able to attend Mass. When we “forsake not the gathering of others,” we present not only a powerful sign to the world, but to each other. In the Mass, we really are one family in Christ. The way we experience that sacrifice has changed over the years, but it remains that one sacrifice and a powerful mark of identification for Catholics everywhere. It is precisely for this reason that a negative experience at Mass can be a true scandal to the faithful: a stepping stone that causes them to lose faith. The scriptures are clear that while individuals will still share some blame for their actions, special condemnation and punishment will be reserved for those whose actions caused them to lose faith. I want us to keep this in mind, as I believe the Church is currently contributing to that scandal when it comes to Mass attendance for families of children with special needs. I also believe that, as the Church seems incapable today of handling even small matters, she cannot handle weighty matters such as these. To tell this story, I’d like to use my own example, though I am certain I am not alone in this matter.
I have two autistic children. Both are limited in their verbal capacity and cognitive abilities. Both engage in frequent verbal stimming, which basically means they are unable to be silent, frequently making noises and talking in what sounds like gibberish to the uninitiated. One of them is unable to attend Mass regularly and will likely require around-the-clock care forever. The Church has far too often failed to meet their needs. Priests and parish officials seldom if ever speak to parents about children who have such needs. When attempting to contact the parish, parents get sent to a variety of bureaucracies and ministries whose work and competence is uneven. Everyone in this situation has learned how to distinguish different types of looks from parishioners, ranging from curiosity to concern to annoyance to hostility. (Many times from the same individual.)
The challenges involved with these children will cut against your understanding of “normal” behavior at Mass. People are meant to be silent. Mass is measured by how actively you “participate” in the responses and the attentiveness with which you observe the readings. Often there will be attempts by parishioners, ushers, and even priests to scold parents into “making” their children behave better. Anyone with even a limited understanding of disabilities (whether physical or cognitive) understands that not only does this not work, it often makes the situation worse. Parents try too hard to keep their children quiet, fearing social ostracization. This can damage the child, and the relationship between parent and child. Most parents in such situations are exhausted, operating daily on five hours of sleep or fewer indefinitely. Rather than feel a sense of community or belonging, they feel a sense of alienation. What happens when you have someone who is exhausted feeling the opposite at Church of what should be expected? The answer is they begin attending with less fervor. This eventually leads to them attending less frequently, which will lead to them just not attending. They have a very difficult life, and the Church makes it more difficult.
When faced with these challenges, the Church will typically respond in a variety of ways. They will respond that it is not really a problem, especially considering all of the problems the Church faces today. To which the answer is simple: the Church does not always get to choose what is and is not a problem, circumstances force problems upon her. You will often hear about this or that great program at this or that parish, and that’s proof the Church is listening. Yet such programs are almost always the exception, not the rule. Furthermore, most of those programs do not in fact live up to the hype. How regularly do those who run such programs meet with, and take active feedback and criticism from those families? An open door is seldom enough, the only way to learn anything is to leave the office and seek it out.
Finally (and most disappointingly), the plight of these children is turned into a football in the latest culture war in the Church, especially with regards to the liturgy. Say you experience these problems at the Novus Ordo: well (the story goes) if you went to the traditional Latin Mass, you would find a world where parishes love the sounds of babies and children. If you experience them at the Latin Mass—well, those stuffy conservatives are so obsessed about reverent worship that they forget the heart, so come to the local Novus Ordo parish. Eastern liturgies will find their own rationale for why the problem is the Roman form of worship, and their communities will give you a better chance. I have been asked to leave from two different Catholic parishes on account of my children. One of them was a Novus Ordo, the other a Latin Mass. That it was not the priest who made the request does not matter. (As it happens I can tell other stories where the priest was the one involved.) I refused, and in one instance, made a very public scene of forcing the individuals to back down. How many, when faced with such, are going to do the logical thing and just leave when they aren’t welcome? Your ideology is not a vaccine against callousness.
The solution to these problems lies not in a parish program or some bureaucratic body you christen a “ministry.” These can help, but they can only help a community that is properly oriented. Most important, we must abandon the desire to assume or imply the worst when we see something that goes against our understanding of normal. Sometimes being loud and unruly is not a sign of bad behavior, bad parenting, or lack of reverence. Sometimes it is, but initial appearances can be misleading.
Each member of the community must be willing to embrace being inconvenienced for the sake of the Gospel and its mission. I do not mean this in the clichéd sense of “offering it up.” I mean this in the sense of being actively willing to bear the struggles of others. Maybe this involves training yourself not to shoot a glare backwards in the Church at someone who is loud or disruptive. Maybe it involves going over to a stressed parent and asking whether there’s anything you can do to help. Maybe it involves making sure the ushers are aware of these situations, and seeing whether any special accommodations need to be made for Communion. Maybe it involves finding a dedicated space (not a cry room) where people can still participate in their own way. You won’t know until you make a conscious effort to offer your help.
As obvious as these solutions might sound, I am also equally pessimistic that the Church can or even wants to do these things. Bearing the burdens of another is difficult in theory; it’s far more difficult in the messiness of reality. Saying that “children and all are welcome” at Mass and photos of smiling children with disabilities for your “Disability Ministry” mean nothing if the first thing they don’t work towards changing is the disposition of everyone in the community, from the greatest to the least.
As to not assuming the worst in others when things go against your definition of “normal,” I only ask you to consider our Church today. It is deeply polarized along ritual, political, and cultural lines. Assuming the worst of individuals is common in all levels of the Church, from the pew to St. Peter’s. Nobody can be different anymore. Even supposed mistakes are no longer acceptable. All differences are instead proof that someone is the enemy. In such an environment, how easy is it to assume the worst?
What does our polarization have to do with providing a safe and welcoming environment towards those with special needs and their families? We cannot hope to tackle big problems (and how to accommodate them is indeed a problem) when we are unwilling to even try the basics of Christian charity. I do not write this to condemn. I don’t want to offer a five-year plan to fix the Church. I want this to be an examination of conscience. Those with special needs (or those who care for such persons) often suffer in silence, not because they are not screaming, but because we have deafened ourselves to them, as our answers to their cries would be imperfect. Yet God does not ask for perfection: he asks for our small actions to be put forward with earnestness. He will feed the masses with the bread we give him. Even if you think your community is doing well, constant examination is required to keep you doing well. Don’t do it to be nice. Don’t do it to save the Church. Do it to save your own soul.
