When you are in Pre-K Sunday school, there aren’t many stories from the New Testament that they can pull from. What are they going to do? Tell the story of the crucifixion? About when Jesus told dudes to pluck out their eyes if they get horny? Oh, I know! Teach about the time Peter smote two people dead for not paying their tithe; that’s a cute tale.
Instead, they told stories of mass genocide because it has animals in it.
One of the first times I remember hearing a story from the Gospel as a kid was the one about Jesus saying, “Take up my yoke and learn from me.” That seemed like a safe enough lesson for little kids. Heck, the verse even has the line, “You have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children,” so this is absolutely a story for children, right?
Well, after Sunday school, I kept pondering that little verse for quite a while and didn’t say a word—not when my mom picked me up, not when we walked through the sanctuary, not when we strolled the parking lot, not when she strapped me into the car seat. Eventually, the thought of what we had been taught that day finally stressed me out to the point that I was hand-flap screaming in the backseat.
“What is wrong?” My mom asked.
“I love Jesus but don’t want to touch his egg! They are gross and sticky. Why would he make me do that?”
“What are you talking about?” Mother looked concerned.
“Jesus said I am supposed to pick up his yoke.”
Unholy Sh+t: An Irreverent Bible Study
Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time
Today’s Reading: Matthew 11:25-30
Nobody is more humble than Jesus, and he’ll be the first one to tell you about it.
This might be a great time to have a talk with y’all that I’ve been meaning to for a while now. The speculation that Jesus might be neurodiverse. Now, I am not a psychologist, so I’m not actually equipped to diagnose anyone, much less someone I’ve never met in person and who may or may not be the undead God of an ancient time. That said, I stayed at a Holiday Inn last night (if you got this joke, it is now time to apply for AARP). As a neuro-spicy person myself, who also hangs out with many other neuro-unique individuals, you get an honorary diagnosis degree after a while. You get good at seeing the signs.
I’m telling you right now, Jesus has a lot of markers for something. I can’t tell you precisely what; is he autistic? ADHD? I'm not really sure, but there is something special about the guy.
So, let's look at the evidence for a moment:
He was a gifted student (Luke 2:41-52)
He is prone to meltdowns (Mark 11:12-25, Matthew 21:12-17)
He doesn’t feel like he is from this world (John 8:23)
He becomes overstimulated (Mark 6:30-31, Luke 8:46)
He is not very good at social queues (John 6:22-62)
He is prone to rabbit-trail stories (Matthew 13:10-12) …
… except when he is being super blunt (Matthew 12:34)
All I’m saying is I can’t think of a single scenario where a neurotypical person would say, “Don’t worry, I am very gentle and the most humble.” Sure, they might think that about themselves, but they aren’t going to just come out and say it like that. That level of bluntness is reserved for the Gifted Kids. And, if you are reading this right now, thinking, “But I would totally do that, and I am not autistic, dyslexic, bipolar, or any of that!” I highly encourage you to Google the term “self-diagnosis.” Where was I? Oh right! Jesus is very, very humble. And the truth is, he actually is. I mean, the dude can walk on water and raise the dead, but he isn’t being braggadocious about any of it. Hell, half the time, he tells the people he heals not to tell anyone.
Yet, that is another example of Jesus being likely on some spectrum. Most of the time, he is like, “Please don’t tell anyone that I healed your leprosy or raised your daughter from the dead!” But then, like the next day, he says, “Yo, everyone is hungry. I am also hungry because I am very bad at regulating my blood sugar (another marker of neurodiversity) and, so bring me that food over there and I’ll magic it into enough food for everyone because that is a totally normal thing to do and will in no way draw any attention to me.” Then, when that backfires, and he doesn’t know what to do now that the crowds are pressing around him, he disappears to go for a little stroll without telling anyone where he is going.
Another big sign for me is that Jesus is always talking but rarely understood. He makes statements that seem contradictory to everyone around him but makes absolute sense to him. For example, one second, he says, “If you want to be my disciple, you must take up my cross and follow me to the death,” and then flips that sh+t right around, saying, “My yoke is easy, and the burden is light.”
The whole concept of a yoke is lost on just about everyone who doesn’t live in the Midwest. You don’t see yokes all that often anymore, maybe a used one at an antique store if you are into that sort of thing.
The purpose of a yoke is to disperse the weight of an object. It was often used for oxen and horses carrying large loads. Basically, it was a large piece of wood with two holes in it, just big enough to shove the animal's head through, and it would evenly distribute the weight of the wagon or plow to lighten the load so that it would put less of a strain on the animal.
Jesus is making a pretty remarkable statement here.
In this parable, he is not placing himself as the farmer or the coachman; he is offering equity. Instead of him being the person pushing the cattle to do all the work, Jesus is saying, “Jump on over here and the burden of whatever you are carrying, we can carry it together. This will make the job a whole lot easier.” Jesus is making it clear that he isn’t afraid to get dirty, to be part of the solution, and he wants to make sure everyone else is having an easier time as well.
Jesus isn’t being arrogant when he says he is humble; he is just being honest. Jesus is a rabbi who is making a claim to the throne of King David. If that declaration is true, he is royalty and could make everyone his subjects, charge them taxes, and live out the life of a king. Instead, he has chosen to live a life of poverty, acquainting himself with those rejected and ostracized by society. He is hanging out with all the other weirdos of the world. He even goes to great lengths, albeit failing frequently, to conceal his abilities. That is the genuine definition of humility. Yet, to the general observer, it isn’t a very humble thing to say, “Y’all, I am so f+cking humble, you have no idea.”
This is why I assert that Jesus is, without question, a member of the neurodiverse community. He just never quite fit in; he didn’t feel like he was from this planet, and eventually, he was bullied to the point of death. If that doesn’t sound like someone who experiences the world a little differently than everyone else, I don’t know what does.
Jesus Christ, King of the Twice Exceptional.
Nothing like a good old fashioned neurodivergent helper type who plans all the things and then slips quietly away as they spiral beyond what was expected. Yay people pleasers! So if Jesus is then also God and we are made in His image, does that mean the "neurotypical" people are really the broken ones? I mean, it makes sense to me.
This might be the first Bible study that made me cackle, tear up, and want to get matching friendship bracelets with the Son of God.
You’re absolutely right. Jesus didn’t “fit in” because he was never meant to. He fit through—like a key into the locked door of human perception. Blunt but tender. Brilliant but overstimulated. Healing crowds one minute, ghosting his disciples the next. That’s not mood swings, that's sacred dysregulation.
Of course he’s neurodivergent. The kingdom he preached wasn’t for the well-adjusted. It was for the misfits, meltdown-havers, hyperfixated lovers of justice, and the ones who say awkward truths in rooms full of polite liars.
Jesus wasn’t "normal." He was the gold standard for divine weirdness.
This isn't a hot take. It's the gospel the Sunday School flannel boards couldn't handle.
All hail Jesus Christ, King of the Twice Exceptional.