Have a keepable rule of prayer done by discipline.
Hopko's third maxim follows directly from the second: ‘pray as you can, not as you think you must’. While the second maxim frees the autistic Christian from the tyranny of unrealistic expectations, this one offers a practical pathway forward. It suggests that we establish a concrete, repeatable pattern of prayer that becomes woven into the fabric of our existing daily life.
When Hopko uses the word ‘discipline’ here, it carries its original meaning derived from the Greek askesis. It is (athletic) training rather than punishment. Athletes do not train when they feel like it, but according to a structured regimen that builds capability over time. Likewise, a rule of prayer is not a test that you either pass or fail, but a steady regimen that gradually forms the heart. Autistic people often naturally gravitate towards routine and systematic thinking, so this approach aligns with how the autistic neurological operating system actually functions. The need for predictability and sequential structure become precisely the tools through which disciplined prayer becomes sustainable.
One practical adaptation for autistics is to attach prayer to an existing daily habit. This works because it exploits what neuroscience confirms about executive function and routine. Structured routines externalize executive function, creating environmental supports that compensate for areas of neurological difference rather than requiring constant willpower or decision-making. When you anchor a prayer practice to an existing fixed point in your day – ‘After I brush my teeth, I say the Trisagion’ or ‘When I pour my morning coffee, I pray the Jesus Prayer’ – you are not adding a separate, effortful task to your day. Instead, you are creating a linked chain of action, where the established habit triggers the prayer almost automatically. Ancient monastic tradition understood something similar: monks structured their days with the Divine Office at specific times, not because arbitrary timing mattered, but because regularity of structure supports the life of prayer. For an autistic Christian, recognizing this may actually clarify something important: your way of thinking is not a departure from Orthodox discipline but potentially a form that naturally aligns with how the tradition envisions prayer being sustained in daily life.
Sooner or later, we will fail to keep our rule. The Coptic monk Matthew the Poor taught that ascetic discipline must never become a source of despair or self-condemnation. If it does, it has ceased to be a path towards God and become an ego-driven performance instead. So, instead of indulging in a spiral of guilt, we are called simply to reset our rule the next day (cf. St Benedict’s advice about always beginning again). For autistic Christians, who often struggle with perfectionism, literal rule-following, and difficulty with self-compassion when mistakes occur, this explicit permission to reset without guilt is not a minor pastoral aside. On the contrary, it is central to the spiritual health of the practice. You will sometimes forget. Your routine will be disrupted by schedule changes, sensory overwhelm, or the simple unpredictability of embodied life. The discipline is not in never missing the prayer; the discipline is in consistently returning to it. This is what the fourth-century Desert Fathers meant when they spoke of ascetic practice: not sinless achievement, but humble, repeated turning back to God. Missing your rule of prayer is not a failure of disciplined life; failure would lie in failing to begin again, day after day.
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