Can children with special needs, mental or physical, celebrate a bar or bat
mitzva in a synagogue? This question was put to the Committee on Jewish Law of
the Rabbinical Assembly of Israel many years ago. There were such children,
including the visually handicapped and hard of hearing, who were being denied
this privilege on the basis of the ruling by some authorities that the rabbinic
teaching that the “heresh” (deaf) and the “shoteh” (mentally deficient) are not
obligated to perform mitzvot means that they cannot become bnei mitzva. In my
responsum, I showed that the rabbis were referring to people who had no means of
communication with the outside world or people who were psychotic and could not
be held responsible for their actions. These definitions would not apply to the
deaf or hard of hearing today nor to children with learning
difficulties.
It was on this basis that the program of bar and bat mitzva
instruction for children with special needs was undertaken by the Masorti
Movement. Schools for such children were offered the opportunity of having
trained instructors come to them at no cost to conduct classes in Judaism for
the year prior to the age of bnei mitzva. A ceremony would then be held in a
synagogue with no charge to the families. Since then, dozens of Israeli schools
have entered this program and more are interested in doing so when the financing
becomes available. The program is open to all and is financed by a special fund
of the Masorti Movement.
Recently I attended such a bar/bat mitzva in
Jerusalem at Moreshet Avraham Synagogue on a Rosh Hodesh morning. The children
were physically handicapped and were all in wheelchairs. Some had difficulty
controlling their limbs, others had speech problems and used electronic devices
to substitute for their own voices when they recited the blessings. In
attendance were their schoolmates, their parents, grandparents, relatives and
friends. They were aided by the teachers and helpers whose love and devotion
were evidenced in all their actions. Their families represented the full
spectrum of Israeli Jewry: Ashkenazim and Sephardim, religious and secular. It
goes without saying that it was a very emotional event, with hardly a dry eye in
the room.
It is impossible to exaggerate what such a celebration means
for these children and their families, most of whom never dreamed that their
children would be able to celebrate such an occasion. These children are
deprived of so much, but here they were being welcomed into the Jewish
community, into the synagogue world, into Jewish tradition and observance with
pride and honor. They were being told that they are the equal of others and can
relate to God and Torah as well as anyone else.
As I listened to these
children recite the blessings over the Torah in whatever way they could, I
responded “amen” with enthusiasm, as did the entire congregation. I was reminded
of the well-known hassidic tale of the child who whistled on Yom Kippur during
the service. It was the only way he could express himself. When the congregation
was annoyed, the rebbe told them that his was undoubtedly the purest prayer that
had been uttered all day and had gone straight to heaven. I am certain that this
was the case that morning in Moreshet Avraham as well.
The rabbis taught:
“When someone makes many coins from one mold, all of them are alike, but the
Holy One forms every person in the image of the first human being, yet no one is
exactly like anyone else. Therefore everyone must say, ‘For my sake was the
world created!’” (Sanhedrin 4:5). Each of these children is a creation of God
for whose sake the world was created. To recognize that and treat them
accordingly is Judaism’s command to us all.
The writer, former president
of the International Rabbinical Assembly, is a two-time winner of the National
Book Award. His latest book is The Torah Revolution (Jewish Lights).
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