Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (13)

Hopko’s 13th maxim is ‘Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings. Cut them off at the start.’

This is not an order to ‘think like a neurotypical’! Autistic Orthodox Christians should not feel pressured into suppressing every intense emotion or special-interest thought, or blaming oneself for sensory overwhelm. Rather, for neurodivergents, it means learning to notice when a thought or feeling is pulling you away from trust in Christ – especially shame scripts, catastrophic ‘what if’ spirals, replaying social interactions, or harsh self-criticism – and choosing not to feed them with endless analysis. You can acknowledge, ‘This is an intrusive thought, not the voice of God’, and then gently return to a short prayer, a psalm verse, or a grounding task, without expecting the thought to vanish instantly. 

However, because autistic cognition often tends towards looping, rumination, and very detailed analysis, ‘cutting off’ intrusive thoughts may need to be concrete and embodied, rather than purely mental. Helpful practices can include setting a time limit for reviewing a distressing event, using a timer; writing down the worry once and then placing it before an icon; shifting attention to a sensory-safe task (walking, knitting, simple chores); or using a script like, ‘Lord, this thought is noisy; You are still here’, whenever the loop restarts. Intrusive feelings can also be intensified by sensory overload, low blood sugar, or exhaustion, so part of obeying this maxim is caring for your nervous system – reducing noise or light, eating, resting – so that your brain is less likely to grab onto every passing fear as absolute truth. 

It is also important not to confuse clinical anxiety, OCD, depression, or trauma responses with deliberate spiritual failure. If intrusive thoughts become constant, blasphemous, or terrifying, or if cutting them off feels impossible, this maxim quietly points towards the later maxims about getting help without fear or shame: talk with a trusted priest, therapist, or doctor about what you are experiencing. In some cases, using medication, therapy, or structured coping tools will actually make this maxim more keepable, because your brain will have enough stability to notice and redirect thoughts instead of being dragged down by them.

Lived in this way, Hopko’s 13th maxim becomes an invitation to let Christ stand guard at the edge of your vivid, detail-rich inner world, so that not every passing image or feeling has the right to rule your heart.

New life for an old lens

I have, as a legacy from my Nikon using days, an old Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 AF lens. It is a nice lens, but it wasn’t compatible with the autofocus mechanisms of either of my Nikon DSLRS. As a result, I could only use it on manual. And I really didn’t like the manual focusing aid on those cameras. So, I only made occasional use of it for close-up work.

Recently, I invested in an Urth Nikon F to Fuji X adapter. And the old lens has become a great addition to my (still small) collection of lenses for the XT-3. Now manual focusing is a doddle because the XT-3 has focus peaking.

In fact, my recent use of that lens on the XT-3 has tempted me to (a) stick to manual focus all the time and (b) build up my lens collection with prime lenses rather than zooms. On the latter point, using a prime lens means I have one less decision to make: I don’t have to choose a focal length; if I can’t frame what I want to photograph, I simply have to move.

Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (12)

Hopko’s 12th maxim is ‘Go to confession and communion regularly.’

Confession can be an intense experience, and the Russian Orthodox practice of queueing up to say confession before every Liturgy with other parishioners milling about nearby can be too much for some autistic people. To make confession manageable, you might want to agree with your priest to meet at a quieter and more private time and place. If you are non-speaking or liable to selective mutism, it is a good idea to write down a brief list of your sins, which you can read out or hand to the priest. It is also a good idea to ask for suitable accommodations such as that the priest use clear, concrete language or that he indicates clearly when you are finished. If eye contact is hard, if you need to stim, or if you speak in a very detailed or ‘info-dumpy’ way, none of these things invalidate the sacrament; you can name them briefly (‘I’m autistic, so I may . . .’) and then focus on bringing your heart and your real actions into the light before Christ.

It is worth remembering that receiving communion (or engaging in any other act of Christian piety) ‘regularly’ is primarily about our relationship with Christ and our fellow members in the body of Christ; it is not a matter of frequency or copying someone else’s pattern. It is perhaps best to work with your priest to find a simple, predictable rhythm that takes account of your needs as an autistic person, rather than waiting until you feel ‘worthy’ (which will never happen) or forcing yourself into a schedule that leads to shutdown. 

Hopko’s maxim should not be seen as a terrifying demand to perform neurotypical piety. Rather, it is a promise that, through a realistic, sustainable pattern of confession and communion, Christ will keep meeting you in your actual autistic body and story, cleansing, strengthening, and feeding you for the Kingdom.

Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (11)

Hopko’s 11th maxim, ‘Go to liturgical services regularly’, is an invitation to anchor your life in the Church’s prayer.

But ‘regularly’ need not mean ‘every single service, no matter what’; it can mean a stable, realistic pattern of attendance (e.g., Divine Liturgy every Sunday and one weekday service when possible). For neurodivergent Christians, such a pattern should take seriously your sensory limits, executive function, and energy. The goal is not to collect attendance ‘points’, but to let Christ reshape your time, body, and imagination through the rhythms of the Liturgy, the feasts and fasts, and the presence of the saints. 

Because services can be loud and crowded, this maxim should be interpreted with compassion and creativity for autistic needs. You might stand at the back or near a door, use earplugs or noise-reducing headphones, hold a small object to stim with (such as a small cross or a prayer rope), or agree with your priest that you can step outside and return as needed without shame. The relatively predictable structure of the Orthodox Liturgy does mean that, once you become familiar with it, the sensory and social load is easier to handle and your mind can rest more on the prayers themselves. For some, ‘going regularly’ may also include connecting via livestream when illness, shutdown, or travel makes physical attendance impossible, while still treating in-person Liturgy as the irreplaceable centre whenever you are able to be there. 

This maxim also touches the pain many autistic people feel when church becomes a place of misunderstanding, exclusion, or pressure to mask. Going to services regularly does not mean enduring spiritual or psychological abuse, forcing eye contact, or pretending that everything is fine while you quietly break down; it means returning again and again to Christ in the midst of His people, with your real body and real needs, and letting Him meet you there. You may need to choose a parish or a particular priest who is willing to discuss accommodations, to arrive early or late to avoid crowds, or to sit or kneel when others stand, without apologizing for being ‘different’. In this way, Hopko’s maxim becomes not another impossible social demand, but a promise: that the liturgical life of the Church can be a stable, patterned refuge where your neurodivergent nervous system and your baptized soul are both slowly shaped for the Kingdom.