Josh Aronson is 39 years old. He was born in Manchester, England, diagnosed autism, and today he is a journalist and the Diaspora c o r r e s p o n d e n t for the Hebrew Maariv newspaper. His journey there was anything but simple.
“I was born into an ultra-Orthodox family in Manchester, one of fifteen children. From a young age, my parents sensed that something about my development was different. They took me from doctor to doctor. Some believed I had hearing or vision problems. Others thought the difficulties were psychological. Only after a long and exhausting journey did the diagnosis finally come. I was on the autism spectrum.”
That diagnosis could have changed everything. Instead, it became the beginning of a different path, one built on faith, expectation, and determination.
“My parents were advised to consult Professor Reuven Feuerstein, a world-renowned expert in cognitive development. After waiting an entire year for an appointment, we finally went, my parents and I. He listened carefully as they described my struggles, and then he said a single sentence that would alter the course of my life: ‘If you treat him like a normal child, he will be normal.’”
“That sentence strengthened my parents immeasurably,” Aronson says. “They decided
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Josh Aronson by the Rebbe's Ohel
that I would receive the same education, the same expectations, and the same standards as my siblings, with no discounts and no lowered bar.” His mother kept a green notebook in which she wrote down everything he needed to work on, alongside the things he did well. “Reading was easier for me than speaking, so this became our bridge.”
“My parents demanded no less of me than of any other child,” he recalls. “I remember one family event where I misbehaved, and as punishment, I was sent to my room, just as any other child would have been. I learned in a regular yeshiva. It wasn’t easy. I struggled. But those struggles built me.”
Looking back today, he sees how vital it is to integrate children with disabilities into mainstream classrooms. “It doesn’t weaken them,” he says. “It strengthens them.”
“At the age of eighteen, despite my disability, I traveled to Israel on my own. I threw myself into challenges rather than avoiding them. I worked with people with special needs and began to find my place.” During that time, he met Chabad emissaries in Jerusalem. “Something clicked,” he says. “It was the beginning of a deep connection.”
Later, as a journalist, he began covering Jewish communities across the globe, from Istanbul, Turkey, to Sydney, Australia. “Again and again, I saw the same thing,” he says. “The Rebbe’s mission was breathing life into Jewish communities. Wherever there were emissaries, there was vitality, tradition, and hope.”
After three years of war, he traveled to Ukraine twice. “I went from one shaliach to the next, from Vinnytsia to Berdichev, from Kyiv to Haditch and Dnipro,” he says. “What I witnessed there was extraordinary. Support packages, medical centers, aid hubs, and endless acts of kindness under fire. The emissaries were doing holy work, day in and day out.”
In recent years, Aronson visited 770, the Rebbe’s synagogue in New York. Rabbi Mendel Eisenbach gave him a tour and showed him a video in which a father asked the Rebbe for a blessing for his autistic son. “The Rebbe said that these children have exceptionally high souls, that they are more holy,” Aronson recounts. “He advised placing a charity box in the child’s room, explaining that it would positively affect the entire family.”
“I broke down in tears,” Aronson says. “I told Rabbi Eisenbach, ‘I, too, am autistic.’”
“He then showed me another video,” Aronson continues, “this one of Professor Feuerstein speaking about his relationship with the Rebbe and a message he received from him.” The message was clear. “When children with disabilities are treated properly, they can function normally.”
“I was shaking,” Aronson says. “In that moment, I understood that the Rebbe had been behind the advice my parents received decades earlier.”
A few weeks later, during a visit to Israel, Mrs. Schlanger, a relative of his wife, heard his story and gave him a dollar she had received from the Rebbe.
As the grandson of a Holocaust survivor, Aronson recently participated in a special event at Auschwitz marking Kristallnacht. It was organized by the European Jewish Association, led by Rabbi Menachem Margolin, with leaders from across Europe in attendance. “During the ceremony, I spoke about more than 300,000 people with disabilities who were murdered in the Holocaust solely because of their limitations,” he says.
“Those were powerful, trembling moments,” Aronson reflects. “They reminded me of something essential. Disability is not weakness. It is strength.”
My personal motto is simple,” he concludes. “Hold yourself to high standards, even when it is difficult. It builds you. My message to people with disabilities and to those without is the same. Demand more of yourself. Push yourself. Make the effort, and you will see salvations.”
Adapted from Sichat Shavua Magazine