A
first Communion success story
By Stanley P. Jaskiewicz
Special to the CS&T
My son, who is autistic, has had great triumphs recently. First Communion,
for one. Our preparation began years ago, even before Peter, who is now
10, first entered the religious education program at Corpus Christi Parish,
Landsdale. Like many other children with disabilities, he sometimes has
difficulty remaining still or understanding what is happening, and especially
dealing with the overwhelming sensory stimulation of a magnificent church.
We began teaching appropriate church behavior very early by taking him
to Mass. Often it was a challenge, and sometimes we had to deal with uncharitable
looks and remarks from those sitting near us. A book, “We Go To
Mass,” which is a pictorial explanation of each step of the Mass,
helped our son understand what was happening, and allowed him to sit through
Mass with us.
Almost immediately after he began attending our parish’s religious
education classes, however, his teacher said she was not certain how to
help him. We understood that volunteer catechists might not know how to
help children with autism. However, we have also repeatedly seen how much
our son learns from other children.
We suggested to our director of religious education that perhaps we could
work together with her staff to help them help our son.
In our quest to help our son learn about God, we also contacted the Archdiocese’s
Office of Pastoral Care for Persons with Disabilities. We were thrilled
to learn that the staff in that office were very familiar with what we
might need, and through their help, a volunteer aide was recruited by
our parish program to support the catechist’s work with my son.
My son thrived.
We always knew that first Communion would be a challenge, however.
We were concerned about him sitting away from us — he constantly
asks us to rub his back during Mass, and occasionally fidgets. But he
“passed” his first behavior test when he sat calmly with his
Cub Scout pack at Scout Sunday in February without us.
We were also concerned about the formality of this special day. My son
is very particular about the clothes that he will (or will not) wear.
An imperceptible tear in a new pair of jeans makes them unwearable to
him. So, when we heard that the required dress code for his first Communion
in third grade — when he was 9 — would be a jacket, tie
and dress slacks, we were concerned; he had never worn dress clothes before.
Because we wanted our son to feel like the other children, first we tried
having him wear a dress shirt — unbuttoned and without a tie —
to Sunday Mass. Gradually, we introduced dress pants. In October, we got
him a pair of black shoes — but they were suede with an athletic
sole, to help him get used to the feeling of something other than sneakers.
At Christmas, he wore — for a few minutes — a traditional
tie. Finally, in March, he allowed us to take him suit shopping at a department
store, and he picked out a blue suit, like one of mine.
We decided that Palm Sunday and Easter would be the test, and he passed
with flying colors. On Palm Sunday, he wore the suit, tie and shoes, but
with his favorite white socks.
His success continued two weeks later, with a spectacular first Communion
weekend. On Friday evening, he was very excited about what would happen
on Saturday. He tried on his new white tie, and compared his new suit
with the one I would wear that day.
When the Mass began, he was beaming from ear to ear, and only got happier
as the service progressed — especially when the procession passed
by our seat. During the homily, he vigorously waved his hand when the
celebrant asked questions. When his turn came to receive the sacrament,
he had a delightful small grin of anticipation. After making a huge bow,
he put the host in his mouth without hesitation, and quickly returned
to his seat. He fidgeted a little at the end of the Mass, but by then,
so did most of the other kids.
Afterward, my wife and I reflected on two aspects of what had been a spectacular
day for him and us. First, we were incredibly proud of his excellent behavior
throughout a long day. But, more importantly, my son seemed genuinely
aware of the spiritual blessing he had received.
Our joy increased in the fall, when he put on his suit and tie again to
read as a lector with me at our family Mass, from the same lectionary
used by adults, fulfilling a dream that I — a lector for many years
— thought had died with his diagnosis.
Stanley Jaskiewicz is a member of Corpus Christi Parish in Lansdale.