Inclusion in the Jewish Community: Jason - Jewish Child Care Association

Inclusion in the Jewish Community: Jason's Story

In the 1950s, there were signs posted at the entrance of some community pools that read “No Jews or Dogs Allowed.” Thankfully, the era of legally sanctioned segregation of that kind is over. Unfortunately, for one out of five Americans — those with disabilities, like me — the presence of segregation is still very much alive today. There may not be printed signs telling us we are not allowed in the door, but the physical barriers, and the attitudes of others, are present in our everyday lives, preventing access to many communal activities. We people with disabilities see signs everywhere we look, whether they are meant to be overt or not — stairs, the lack of Braille prayer books, or more importantly, facial expressions of people or comments made when we enter a synagogue. People display their discomfort in all kinds of ways without realizing it, and in doing so, not only do they hurt those of us with disabilities, but they also hurt themselves even more.

Eight years ago, while working to improve accessibility in area synagogues, I met with a prominent New York rabbi. He was well known for his efforts in outreach, yet he told me of people with disabilities, “I don’t need to accommodate those people; we don’t have any of them here.” I asked him to look outside and then questioned how someone in a wheelchair, particularly a person from the assisted-living facility across the street, could enter the congregation given the 15 steps necessary to access the front door. His congregation has since built a ramp, and many of the residents across the street actively participate in synagogue life.

Accessibility and inclusion, however, are about more than just building ramps. In fact, I would argue that physical barriers, as frustrating and difficult as they may be, are not our biggest challenge. At a recent conference in Israel, a number of disability advocates from around the world came together and declared that the biggest barrier to inclusion is the stigma others have toward people who are different. I have walked into hundreds of synagogues throughout the last 10 years. In some places, people greet me as they would greet anyone else. They wish me Shabbat shalom and ask whether I would like to be called up to the Torah. In other places, I hear whispers and see pointing fingers. Even worse, there are people who will approach a person I’m sitting next to and ask, “Does he need help?” instead of asking me themselves; or they ask another person, “Don’t you think he would be more comfortable in another room?” These questions are brought on by a lack of comfort with somebody who is different, somebody who is a stranger. When an inviting environment is created for us, people find we have much to add to the community, from the individual with Down syndrome who has gone on to inspire and teach others to learn Hebrew and pray with intensity to the individual on the autism spectrum who has inspired people through a love of Torah.

If you give us the chance, we will make a difference. In Judaism, we learn to treat the stranger with respect. In Judaism, we are taught that we are supposed to be the light unto all other nations. Let us take these lessons to heart and build a stronger Jewish community. It must begin by building caring communities within our institutions — communities that respect and appreciate people for who they are, for the challenges they face, and for the lives they lead.

Jason Lieberman was diagnosed with cerebral palsy spastic diplegia at the age of 11 months. Now an intern at UJA-Federation of New York, Jason is working toward an MPA in Public and Nonprofit Management and Policy, with a management specialization, at The Robert F. Wagner Graduate School of Public Service at New York University. He continues to be a sought-after public speaker who has spoken in various venues throughout the United States and abroad over the past 10 years.

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