The Sunday 1 p.m. Mass at Nativity Catholic Church in Burke, Virginia is typically the parish’s least attended weekend litugy.
But on August 11, the church was full.
Volunteers in matching gray T-shirts asked incoming Mass-goers if they needed any special accommodations. A table in the narthex offered tools like interactive Mass binders and “fidgets” — tactile self-regulation aids. The lights in the sanctuary were dimmed.
It was the parish’s first monthly “sensory Mass,” held especially for neurodiverse Catholics, and the turnout was significant.
Many developmental disabilities, such as autism, include sensory processing challenges. Fluorescent lighting and loud sounds, for example, can feel more intense — even unendurable — to someone with a high degree of sensory sensitivity.
And among families with neurodiverse children, behavioral difficulties — often compounded by sensory overwhelm — can make attending a typical service feel unmanageable. Sometimes other church-goers lack understanding or patience for what they perceive as unusual or disruptive behavior. Furthermore, some church buildings lack space to move around or take a quiet break.
All told, the many difficulties can lead to a drop-off in attendance. One study found that autistic children are nearly twice as likely never to attend church services as children without a chronic health condition.
As attendees arrived at Nativity on this August afternoon, some put on noise-canceling earphones. A few made use of dedicated separate spaces — one for remote viewing, with the Mass streaming on a wall-mounted TV, and the other a quiet room for taking a break if needed.
“We gather as God’s children, all of us,” said Fr. Bob Cilinski, Nativity’s pastor, as he began the Mass.
There were other minor modifications to the liturgy. Many of the responses were recited, not sung, and the hymns were quiet and gentle. During his homily, Cilinski held a loaf of bread as a visual aid as he preached about the Bread of Life discourse.
At Nativity, the sensory Mass is a natural partner to the parish’s Special Religious Development program, or SPRED. Originating in the Archdiocese of Chicago, SPRED is designed to prepare children with developmental disabilities to receive the sacraments and grow in faith through one-on-one accompaniment.
Tracey Hulen, a parishioner and education consultant, organized the senory liturgy, along with Joyce Kelly, the parish’s SPRED director, and Alison Fram, the director of young adult, family and social action ministries. The three also gave the parish’s priests a training on the different sensory systems ahead of time.
The team was moved by how well the first Mass went, they said.
“We had a couple parents that got teary when they saw all the materials,” Hulen told The Pillar.
“They said, ‘I just can’t believe that this is happening.’”
Jeannine Brown attended the Mass with her 15-year-old son, who has multiple neurodevelopmental diagnoses.
Brown told The Pillar that she was impressed by the range of sensory needs the organizers anticipated. For her son, the large-print, simplified worship aid was especially helpful, and he appreciated Cilinski’s direct and visual homily.
As they left, Brown said, her son asked how often the sensory Mass would be. She told him the next one would be next month.
“He said, ‘Well, sign me up,’” said Brown.
A growing awareness
Charleen Katra, executive director of the National Catholic Partnership on Disability (NCPD), told The Pillar that she first began hearing about sensory-friendly Masses in the late ‘90s, as cultural awareness of accessibility needs was growing.
“Sometimes the Church leads society; sometimes society leads the Church,” said Katra.
Indeed, many of the adaptations at Nativity’s Mass came from special education programs. Hulen, who herself has neurodiverse family members, told The Pillar that she first started bringing fidgets and other self-regulation tools for her own children’s use at Mass.
“I, being a teacher, thought, ‘Well, we use these tools in school. Why wouldn’t I bring them at church?’” said Hulen. “So I started doing that, and it made a huge difference.’”
The Mass binders Hulen offered attendees likewise employed techniques used in special education, like “social stories,” or pictorial representations of a series of events. They also had checkboxes for each part of the Mass so attendees could track the progress of the liturgy with a dry-erase marker.
For many families, explained Katra, such accommodations — as well as a spirit of welcome — can determine whether they attend Mass at all.
“It keeps families in the Church, or brings families back to the Church,” she said.
Today, the popularity of sensory Masses continues to grow. NCPD currently offers an online course on starting a sensory Mass, said Katra, with more in-depth resources on the subject forthcoming.
Like Nativity’s, many such Masses aim for inclusion across a range of needs. Low-gluten hosts may be available; some have American Sign Language interpreters.
Fr. Matthew Schneider, an autistic priest of the Legionaries of Christ, keeps a running directory of regular sensory Masses across the U.S. and Canada. Some — like St. Vincent de Paul’s sensory Mass in Fort Wayne, Indiana — are booming.
He hopes to see at least one sensory Mass, he told The Pillar, in every city — not only for accessibility, but to foster community particularly among autistic Catholics.
“Our difficulties in communication are usually between us and non-autistic people,” Schneider explained.
“Between autistic people, we actually communicate better. So building that community — I think that can be helpful.”
Short of a dedicated Mass, Schneider noted that a “sensory room” — like a “reverse cry room,” he said — can be a simple first step to accommodate sensory-sensitive parishioners. Sensory rooms can offer a quieter environment and space to move around, as well as self-regulation tools like fidgets and alternative seating like swivel or beanbag chairs.
A ‘complete’ Body of Christ
Next time, Hulen and Kelly said, they would like the music to be even quieter. They plan to dim the lights in the vestibule and in the nave of the church. They’ll make more binders, too.
Fram hopes that the ministry will continue to grow — for example, by establishing a support group for parents of neurodiverse children or fostering community among neurodiverse young adults.
“We wonder if maybe this Mass will be a good jumping off point,” Fram told The Pillar, particularly for identifying people who might want to participate in such ministries.
Brown said that she and her family have never felt unwelcome at Nativity, but she was especially grateful for the sensory Mass.
“When you have a child that has particularly a developmental disability, it can feel very isolating,” she said.
“Even though I didn’t know the vast majority of people in the church, it was a beautiful gathering of community to see that there were other people that also are recognizing sensory needs and trying to navigate that through our faith.”
Likewise, parishioners without a direct connection to disability are often also touched “even by being present in the same Mass,” said Katra.
“They’re supporting the Body of Christ being complete.”
Kelly was emphatic that Catholics with disabilities deserve total inclusion.
“Really, it is their right when they are baptized. That’s not the end of it. They are entitled to all this, to have a liturgy that they can participate in, feel part of, become a member of the Church,” said Kelly.
“And we don’t have a right to exclude them.”
At the end of Mass, Cilinski thanked all the staff and volunteers who made the Mass possible. He requested that the congregation show their appreciation with the ASL sign for applause instead of clapping.
Everyone raised their hands to the heavens — a silent gesture of gratitude.
This report is part of The Pillar's solutions-oriented series highlighting parishes across the U.S. You can read more from this series here.
