Some great insights and a shout out to All Saints PNCC in Carnegie, PA.
May 23–Children ran happily up the aisle of Our Redeemer Lutheran Church in Peters, oblivious to the pastors and teachers who greeted them. The adults weren’t offended, though — they recognized the inability of those on the autism spectrum to recognize social cues.
They had come for Joyful Noise, a service held at 1 p.m. on the second Sunday of each month and designed for families in which someone has autism. The service is short and structured, with traditional prayers and opportunities to play rhythm instruments. No one minds if someone squeals during prayer or walks away during a sermon delivered by animal puppets.
“Our goal is to give them the message that Jesus loves you, and make church a comfortable, welcoming place,” said the Rev. Ann Schmid, senior pastor of Our Redeemer, a congregation of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
From Joyful Noise to efforts to help synagogues integrate autistic students into Hebrew School, Pittsburgh is home to pioneering efforts at religious outreach to those on the autism spectrum. A Catholic religious-education program developed at one South Hills parish has become a national model.
“Everybody has the right to be part of our faith. We have a responsibility to include everyone,” said Deacon Larry Sutton, a psychologist and manager of the state Bureau of Autism for Western Pennsylvania, who developed the catechism program at Our Lady of Grace in Scott.
People with autism range from those who can’t speak to brilliant, articulate people who are devoid of social skills and obsessed with certain topics. What they have in common, Deacon Sutton said, is difficulty in processing information, sensory stimulation and social cues.
“All that I learned about welcoming children with autism into the congregation, I initially learned from the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh,” said former Pennsylvania first lady Ginny Thornburgh, director of the Interfaith Initiative at the American Association of People with Disabilities in Washington, D.C.
Diocesan advocates taught her to bring those with autism into the worship space when it’s empty, to prepare them for a future service. The diocese published a picture book, “We Go to Mass,” to guide them through worship. Ms. Thornburgh encourages Muslims, Hindus and others to make similar books
She tells all of them that people with autism bring gifts, and should be welcomed as musicians, office helpers and other types of volunteers.
“I gave a speech once and a woman on the autism spectrum said to me, ‘I don’t want to be welcomed. I want to be valued,’ ” Ms. Thornburgh said.
The Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh developed a “Best Practices Guide for Including Students with Disabilities,” with a section on autism, and sent it to every parish. Its many recommendations include constructive ways to respond quickly to potentially disruptive behavior.
It takes only one bad experience to drive a family away.
When Tina Brown moved to Scott four years ago with her autistic son, John, then 4, they attended one Mass at nearby SS. Simon & Jude. The loud music made John cry, so she took him to a vestibule. A priest who spoke to them there “told us I should look elsewhere for another parish,” she said.
Four generations of her extended family now attend All Saints Polish National Catholic Church in Carnegie, where she said the priest told them, “If people can’t handle children crying, they don’t belong in my church…”
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Elliot Frank, chairman of the Advisory Board on Autism and Related Disorders, is always surprised when he hears of difficulties at worship. He believes that some parents are unnecessarily embarrassed by behavior that others are willing to accept.
His son, who has Asperger’s Syndrome, received individualized instruction at Temple Ohav Shalom in McCandless. At 13 he had a normal Bar Mitzvah, where the only sign of his disability was what he said in his Bar Mitzvah speech.
“He talked about how with autism he had to work to communicate with people, and Moses had to work to communicate with God. So he made a connection between himself and Moses,” Mr. Frank said.
Rabbi Art Donsky said Temple Ohav Shalom’s previous director of lifelong learning sought assistance from the Agency for Jewish Learning in Squirrel Hill, which offers advocacy and training to help synagogues serve students with special needs. Ohav Shalom also tied into “wrap-around” programs from seven school districts that provide aides to help autistic students outside of school.
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After class at Our Lady of Grace, Ms. Cicconi takes her sons into the empty church. They have tried to attend Mass from a “quiet room,” but once the music swells, Gus can’t tolerate it.
“At this point we are barely making it through the entrance hymn. We are making tiny, tiny steps. The point for me is to get them into a consistent habit of going to church on Sunday,” she said.
That was why she helped Our Redeemer to start Joyful Noise. Both boys attended the Lutheran church’s Noah’s Ark preschool, which has an 18-year history of welcoming children on the autism spectrum. The 30-minute service averages about 15 worshipers.
A church member made prayer shawls with weights in the hem because it calms some autistic children to be wrapped in something heavy. All have buttons or fringe that the children can twist.
Sheila and Gary Coquet of Peters attend with their sons Chase, 5, who has autism, and Grayson, 3, who doesn’t. They are grateful to worship without worrying what other people think of them.
Chase’s favorite song is “Puff the Magic Dragon.” One Sunday, in the middle of Joyful Noise, he began demanding to hear it.
“He was fixated on it and couldn’t get off of it,” his mother said. Instead of ignoring him or expecting his parents to silence him, music director Mary Helen Barr realized the nature of his obsession and played a verse of “Puff.” That allowed Chase to calm down and focus on the service.
“It’s so nice not to be embarrassed,” Mr. Coquet said.
Joyful Noise is timed so families can also attend their own churches. The bulletin invites participants to follow their own traditions, whether that means crossing themselves or praying with arms raised.
“We’re not doing this so more people become Lutheran,” said the Rev. Steven Broome, the associate pastor. “We’re doing it so people have a place that’s welcoming and safe.”
