Helping kids with autism find faith

From The Harrisburg Patriot-News:

HARRISBURG, Pa. —- Sometimes, when the choir sings, Aubree Canonizado throws her head back, closes her eyes and lifts her hands to the heavens.

At those moments, her father George believes, she's sharing a moment with Jesus.

"Jesus didn't shun anybody. He migrated toward people who needed him," said George Canonizado, a resident of Mechanicsburg, a few miles west of Harrisburg across the Susquehanna River. His daughter Aubree is autistic. "Everybody needs to know Jesus loves them."

Jesus loves them, but the person in the next pew might struggle. Children with autism sometimes exhibit behaviors people don't normally see in church. They yell, flap their hands, talk nonstop about one topic, have inappropriate contact with strangers, throw tantrums and behave unpredictably. Some are sensitive to light, noise, crowds and change.

With autism dramatically on the rise, the religious community is seizing an opportunity to reach out to families with autism, said Shelly Christensen, author of "The Jewish Community Guide to Inclusion of People with Disabilities."

"This isn't about them and us. This is us. This is all of us," said Christensen, program manager of the Jewish Community Inclusion Program for People with Disabilities in Minneapolis.

Christensen tells of adults who longed to take part in religious life for decades, but never felt welcome. "It's their birthright," she said.

"A faith community should be the first place people turn to. You look at the tenets of Judeo-Christian, Muslim religions." Christensen said. "Abraham and Sarah welcomed the strangers. He washed their feet, feeding them, serving them, not patronizing them."
Autism can isolate a family.

Anne Platt doesn't even try to take her son Billy, 10, to church anymore. She and her husband, Keith, attend Good Shepherd Church in nearby Camp Hill with their other children, one parent staying home with Billy while the other worships.

"I can't think of my son first. As Catholics first, that's our worship and that's a very sacred thing," said Platt, of Mechanicsburg. "My son is not going to benefit spiritually from being there, so I feel it's not fair to me to put that on someone else, to detract from their experience so my son can be physically present in the church."

Billy would spend the entire service singing, talking, running through scripts and getting into other people's personal space, she said. Taking him to the church cry room just sent Billy into sensory overload, she said.

She would love to go to church as a family, especially at the holidays, but Easter and Christmas, with their packed pews, are especially bad times for Billy.

It's all about juggling the needs of one group with that of another, Platt said. "There are times you can do that, but there are times that might not be possible."

William Stillman, a writer who lives in Hummelstown, about 10 miles east of Harrisburg, believes people with autism have a great capacity for knowing God.

There's a myth that people with autism are in their own little world, but monks meditate to get into their own world, to get closer to God, said Stillman, author of several books on autism and God.

Some people with autism do a lot of rocking and twirling. "Sufi dervishes do the same thing to get closer to God. The autistic person does it naturally," he said at a workshop this spring at First United Methodist Church in neighboring Hershey.

"This is not a plague. This is not a scourge. This is not the epidemic that the media reports it to be. It's an opportunity," said Stillman, who has Asperger's syndrome and has worked with autistic children for many years.

The Catholic Diocese of Harrisburg is looking at how best to reach out to families with autism. The diocese is implementing a diocese-wide parish advocacy program, said Ginny Duncan, director of the diocese office of ministry with people with disabilities.

She has heard stories from parents of children with autism about getting disapproving looks from other parishioners when their child runs up the aisle during the sermon or throws his hands over his ears while the choir sings.

"The first reaction is 'This is the bad child who just isn't disciplined and is too spoiled, blah, blah, blah,'" said Duncan, who has worked with special needs families for years.

The diocese might consider holding some services without music, so autistic people don't feel overwhelmed by music with varying acoustics.

Parish religious education programs could be adapted for children with autism, Duncan said. "We know there are other kids for whom inclusion can be difficult. For those kids who need a more specialized program, we could look perhaps at having a central place. But that creates issues for families who want to keep their children in their own parishes."

Other mid-state churches are further along in the process.

Yes, sometimes Aubree Canonizado blows out the Advent candle, but First United Methodist in Mechanicsburg has always had an openness for children, said the Rev. Mike Minnix, senior pastor. "We have a pretty easy sense of humor. I imagine some places where that would cause a gasp."

The church wanted to welcome people with disabilities and establish a congregation-wide commitment, which began with educating members about disabilities, said Lisa Wickenheiser of Camp Hill, chairwoman of the church's ACCESS ministry team.

"If your child's diagnosis is keeping you from attending church, you end up with an entire family often who is not attending church. You love the family by loving the child and attending to the child so the whole family can take part in worship services," Wickenheiser said.

The West Shore Evangelical Free Church in Mechanicsburg welcomed Esther and Lee Feirick and their three autistic children—Calvin, 11, Catherine, 8, and Josiah, 7—in ways the family never expected since they first came in May 2008, Esther Feirick said.

"For Catherine they had someone who could sit with her in her Sunday school class and kind of keep her on track and keep her participating," she said. "Josiah's teacher said, 'Oh! My nephew has that! Does he like deep muscle pressure? Does he like this?' They already knew some of these things. I was amazed because that hadn't been my experience."

The family received at least three contacts from the children's pastor, asking what else the church could do to help the family. "They ask us to help. They asked what kinds of things should the staff know. They're very supportive," said Feirick, who lives in neighboring Shiremanstown.

"They have had a long history of working with people who are different," she said.

Instead of expecting the Feirick children to conform to their system, the congregation asked what they could change to make the experience easier for the Feiricks, Esther Feirick said. "I never had that. That thinking was so different."

When she's frustrated with their attitudes at home, she and the children will gather together and pray. "When we don't know what else to do, we pray that God will help us change our attitude," she said. "I really believe a child can know God in their level, and my kids can know God, in their own way."