Autism and the Church: Bible, Theology, and Community by Grant Macaskill (review)

Grant Macaskill has written one of the first books seriously examining autism from a theological perspective. Obviously, much of this is pastoral theology, as salvation is essentially the same independent of neurotype. As an openly autistic Catholic priest who has also thought about these questions, I read this book from a unique perspective. Some reflections require contextualization in evangelical Christianity, of which Macaskill is a part, but in general, his reflections are applicable to Catholicism as well.

This review will cover four main topics in Macaskill’s work: his biblical exegesis, analysis of autism, practical suggestions, and views on human sexuality.

Macaskill admits near the beginning the challenge he has with the theology of autism: “The biblical writers had no category that matched the modern definition of autism, which means that we cannot find texts or passages that obviously inform our thinking about it” (2). He repeats this at the beginning of his section on the Bible, warning against proof-texting (43–44) and proposing that the Bible offers a framework for theological engagement with autism.

Reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount, Macaskill notes that Jesus does not choose examples from what is useful for production (harvest) or can be used in sacrifice (sheep). Instead, “his examples involve things with no utility or value (grass and lilies) and things which would be considered unclean (ravens), and he indicates that God cares for and clothes these things in ways that exceed any human ascription of worth” (78). This provides a framework to value people, particularly those on the spectrum, as God does not value people for mere pragmatic abilities in religion or social life. Macaskill repeats this emphasis on God’s valuation: “The very core of the gospel story involves a recognition that God loves the unlovely, the things that are generally considered difficult to love and that are typically treated with contempt, and makes them pivotal to a work of salvation that itself centers on a moment of extreme unloveliness” (80).

Macaskill concludes from studying 1 Corinthians: “The church is not a safe place just because in is the church. It is a safe space when the values of God’s kingdom are straightforwardly implemented and applied to the welfare of each member” (97). In a Catholic view, where one can be more or less fully representative of the Church (Mary being the perfect model of the Church), I think we could say that implementing the values of God’s kingdom is becoming more fully the Church.

Macaskill sees accommodations like sensory-friendly Masses in Romans 14 and 15. He uses similar principles to those that Paul employs in describing the “weaker” and “stronger.” These chapters “involve very specific applications of the principles of unity and value” (118). Macaskill explores how the primacy of God’s election bears upon value judgments regarding those who require others to help them. We tend to assume that the weaker brother in Romans is deficient compared to the stronger, but Macaskill questions this as a prejudice on our part. He recalls Paul’s point that God chooses the weak, and Paul’s use of the analogy of the body, where weak and strong are equally part of the body (119–20). These Pauline texts should lead us to value those who struggle, such as autistics.

In disability literature, there is currently a debate between a medical model of disability (the disability is disabling in itself) and the social model (the disability is disabling insofar as society does not make room for it). In autism, there is a related movement called neurodiversity: it emphasizes that autistic brains are primarily different not defective, without denying autism is disabling. Macaskill addresses these issues, taking a balanced approach with which I generally agree: “The positive significance of diversity can be affirmed alongside the acknowledgement that autism can have genuinely disabling effects, which are often specific to context. More subtly, this can lead to reflection on the...