We All Have Special Needs

               An older man experiences chest pains in the middle of a church service; EMTs are called.  A baby screeches.  A mother feels faint, and is guided out of the sanctuary.  A young man taps his feet to the music.  An older woman knocks her cup of coffee over in a pew but doesn’t notice; the people around her frantically try to clean it up before she does.  A cell phone rings.  A little girl doesn’t respond when you ask her a question, but looks at you with a shy smile.

               These are all things that have happened in real life services at a church near you.  Some of them were considered disruptive or weird by some of the people there; other events were chalked up to normal things that “just happen” sometimes.

               The difference, unfortunately, is that in some of these cases, the people involved have special needs. Too often in those situations, the perceived “disruption” was not tolerated the way it was, when, for example, the lightheaded mother (me) had to be led out of the service because she didn’t eat enough breakfast.  Surely the sight of me stumbling down the side aisle assisted by two kind souls distracted people from whatever was going on.  I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I was glad people didn’t make a big deal of it, or tell me I wasn’t welcome at church until I could get my blood sugar issues under control.  Sadly, some of the other people in these scenarios were told that they weren’t welcome, or they were invited to listen to the service outside the sanctuary doors, or they were subjected to rude glares or “sh-shing” noises and gestures.  In his All Saints sermon last Sunday, Father John observed that our culture tries to “sanitize death.”  All too often, we try to sanitize life, as well.

               A lot of the time at St. Mark’s, we get it right.  And sometimes, we have really screwed it up.  The standard is high, though, as high as it can be.  As a church, we have to get it right 100% of the time.  There is no room to be unwelcoming, to not be compassionate, to not accept people for who they are, where they are, whenever they come to church, because they come to church for exactly the same reasons we do: to feel loved, safe, accepted, at home.  When we encounter people that we perceive as “different,” we don’t always know how to act.  Staring isn’t polite or helpful, but neither is pretending that they aren’t there.  So what is the right thing to do?

               I asked some parents of children with special needs, and here’s what they said: “My biggest thing is letting people know that respectful questions are always welcome.”  “ I think the important part is to simply be present and kind toward anyone who is a little different.”   “A person with challenges loves to be valued for who they are and feel like they are being recognized - even if they can't participate fully.”  “Meeting (people with special needs) where they are and recognizing that they are a human being just like everyone else is a great first step and will usually be rewarded with a big smile, a big open heart, and the good feeling of knowing that you reached out to someone who often doesn't feel connected in this big crazy complicated world.”

               We can do this.  Church services are not concert performances, yet it is important to honor the service time, the holy and the sanctified.  What is more holy, though, than the very act of gathering together for worship?  Jesus said, “When two or more are gathered in my name, I am there in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20).  What binds us together is our humanity and our love (“they will know we are Christians by our love”), in all the ways that is manifested in us.  We can recognize ourselves in each other if we really look.  We all have special needs, and we are all capable of helping each other meet them.  Let us not turn away, but let God open our eyes, our arms, and our hearts.

 

Bess