The story of the good Samaritan illustrates a core value in my faith tradition: the importance of caring for others regardless of closeness or personal bias. Often, the focus is on the Samaritan’s compassion, but I am most fascinated by the priest and Levite who passed by. Jesus intentionally made the victim and those who ignored him members of the same community, highlighting that even insiders may withhold compassion. I imagine possible backstories—maybe the priest and Levite disliked the injured man, or perhaps indifference or inconvenience guided their actions. This makes me wonder whether it is sometimes easier to feel compassion for strangers than for those with whom we share history or daily frustrations. In the context of the disability community, this story reminds me that those closest, like regular caregivers or community members, are not always compassionate. They may see help as an inconvenience or know the individual too well to extend empathy. Churches, as community centers, can model the Samaritans’ example by purposefully noticing and including disabled people, ensuring all are valued and empowered to advance disability rights. This story frames my argument: meaningful inclusion and advocacy require intentional, daily acts of empathy—especially from those in a position to help.
This concept of neighborliness extends beyond faith communities. For example, I recently watched a 48 Hours mystery in which two neighbors described their missing neighbor as someone who purposely shoveled snow onto their driveways, shone spotlights in their windows, and was accused of family abuse. When he disappeared, the neighbors admitted feeling relieved and hoped his disappearance would remain unsolved.
The only person interviewed who seemed to care that the man was murdered was the homicide detective who had never met the man but was involved in solving his murder. If Jesus were asked who had been a good neighbor to the murder victim, I’m certain he would answer the detective. We all should want to think that we’re good neighbors and desire good neighbors to surround us.
Mr. Rogers opened each show of his by asking if we wanted to be his neighbor. The question we have to ask ourselves is, do we want to be good neighbors to those with disabilities, and can those with disabilities, myself included, be good neighbors to those who do not understand the challenges of living with a disability?
After two years in disability communities, I’ve learned that effective advocacy relies on everyday conversations that educate non-disabled people. This daily dialogue shapes how people see disability and influences long-term change. Sharing experiences and active listening change perspectives, making advocacy possible beyond policy. Today, we are increasingly isolated from those unlike ourselves, especially people with disabilities. When churches provide opportunities for people with disabilities to connect with others and their community, they not only reduce loneliness but also foster essential understanding. These interactions are foundation stones for successful disability advocacy—emphasizing that daily inclusion is how real progress is made.
Moreover, this emphasis on daily connection naturally extends to families. Many parents of disabled children limit social opportunities, possibly due to accessibility concerns or fear of exclusion. I’m saddened when parents assume their child will fail before even trying, yet I meet disabled people who are capable and accomplished. It’s important to assume that your child is capable, even if they might need to accomplish a goal a different way. A good example is making pasta. My partner has mentioned how it’s difficult for him to reach most stove ranges. He often tells the story of how he learned to make pasta, one of his favorite foods, in the microwave when he lived abroad. I learned to make pasta on the stove, but if the goal is to make a meal of spaghetti to feed oneself, it doesn’t matter how the pasta is cooked.
Parents should allow children to try new things—even when it’s daunting—and support them through challenges, such as joining camps or events. My parents encouraged me to socialize; it was hard but vital. Supporting a child’s new experiences and being available afterward is critical. Early exposure to challenges, paired with daily conversation, builds independence and resilience. This is essential for all children, especially those with disabilities. The world at large often sends a message to disabled individuals that they are incapable and fragile. providing opportunities to take controlled risks and overcome minor failures builds well-earned confidence that will help a disabled child move towards independence. A small example is the life skill of learning to cook.
When I was in early elementary school, a family friend was diagnosed with cancer, and I told my mom that I wanted to make her a meal. My mom suggested lasagna. She could have told me that she was afraid I’d hurt myself using the stove or oven and forbade me from making the meal. Instead, she carefully explained each step and supervised me as I made the meal. This introduction to cooking gave me the first bit of confidence, leading me to feel comfortable cooking in the future. I’ve heard parents who openly forbid their children from microwaving leftovers who have a disability and have the ability to do so because they are afraid something bad will happen if they allow this modicum of independence. The worst outcome would be not knowing how to cook and not being able to take care of oneself later in life.
As a member of the autism community, I highlight events for autistic participants to support inclusion. For example, churches could convert unused basements into sensory-friendly lounges with dim lighting, fidget kits, and open spaces for children who need movement. To organize a sensory-friendly movie night: First, collect detailed input from families by asking if noise-canceling headphones are needed, whether a private reset room would help, and which snacks are preferred. Next, provide a clear, detailed event schedule in advance so families can prepare. Select an accessible film, such as The Sound of Music, and show it in a sanctuary or multipurpose room. Inform families that all relatives must attend together. Following these steps helps make the event predictable and inclusive for all. Having a dedicated space where someone can stim, be free from scrutiny, and access comfort items before rejoining the activity is essential. Provide pillows and blankets for comfort, or allow families to bring their own if preferred. For movie nights, lower the movie volume to accommodate sensory differences. If possible, provide noise-canceling headphones that transmit movie dialogue and have adjustable settings. Notify families in advance that they will be given a link to finish the movie at home if they need to leave early.
Similarly, another church event, like a sensory-friendly dinner, can help. Such events offer comfortable settings and flexible arrangements for community building. This idea is inspired by the nonprofit Autism Eats, based in Philadelphia. Mirroring their model, a sensory-friendly environment includes low lighting, noise reduction, buffet-style eating, and welcoming everyone. No one has to worry about paying a bill if they have to leave early. The buffet includes French toast sticks, hot dogs, and French fries. Many churches have kitchens and spaces where a dining area can be set up. These event ideas are just a few suggestions for fostering community, increasing autism visibility, and moving towards greater acceptance.
When it comes to autism visibility and acceptance, I would argue that those of us with level one ASD have made inroads in recent years. There are still issues with regard to equal employment and supportive housing, but it’s something that’s talked about much more than when I was a child. I remain concerned and have my eye on the inroads that need to be made for other segments of the autism community. Caregiver support, resources for those whose autism affects them differently than mine does, support for siblings, and making space for all kinds of advocates in the autism advocacy space are issues I am committed to learning more about and advocating on. We all need to have a place.
Community engagement and advocacy for people with disabilities are challenging yet essential. Personal stories used for education can sometimes sound like anger, which may create distance. However, the main argument is that progress depends on building authentic connections and understanding through daily interactions, not confrontation. Confrontation is sometimes necessary. The goal is that, when confrontation occurs, it takes place in a context that allows for further understanding, questioning, and repairing ruptured relationships. Family and community engagement, especially through volunteering, creates connections and builds skills. Volunteering has supported my professional growth and helped others develop, too. Shared goals and virtual options like Zoom further daily, inclusive advocacy.
Every solution mentioned is meant to be part of a solution, a piece of what could build towards a better world. There’s a lot more work to do with regard to creating inclusive third spaces, increasing access to resources, and there’s the ongoing battle of dealing with people who don’t want to be good neighbors, and no amount of education will make them so. The goal is not to change every heart and mind. The goal is to reach those who can be reached, and there’s already a lot of work to do.
Living on the Spectrum 
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