During a recent Shabbos, I prayed at the synagogue with probably the worst decorum in the world. People were talking, some were screaming, shrieking, and hollering, others were stomping their feet, banging on the tables, hitting the walls, and jumping up and down. It was the most distracting service I’ve ever experienced – and by far the holiest I’ve been privileged to witness.
The Shul at Camp HASC is filled with boys and girls and men and women with special needs, physical and developmental disabilities including autism, Down’s Syndrome, cerebral palsy, and others. Few can participate in the prayer service in the traditional sense; many are not verbal, and most don’t seem cognitively capable. Yet one cannot help but feel the noises being transmitted from the holy, pure souls of HASC’s campers ascend to the highest places of prayer.
I met an autistic, 15-year-old young man named Zev, who is mostly nonspeaking. Until recently, little was known about his thoughts, feelings, and aspirations. After days of diagnostic testing, the "experts" had determined that Zev had the intelligence of an 18-month-old. But in the last few years, Zev and his similar friend and fellow camper Srulik have worked with an extraordinary communication therapist who utilized the latest techniques to teach how to type and communicate non-verbally.
It turns out that while on the outside Zev and Srulik seem developmentally stunted, often unable to understand, they take it all in and are full of deep thoughts, ideas, and words of Torah.
Last month, in honor of his sister’s wedding, Zev’s parents published a booklet of his Torah thoughts that he typed letter by letter. Zev’s first entry said the following:
Moses could not talk perfectly. In spite of this disadvantage, he was our greatest teacher. It seems to me the lesson is clear. It is not the talking that makes a man great, it is the listening and understanding of the messages of Hashem. I think I never had the ability to know my listening was my strength because I looked only at a lonely, quiet life. Now I have hope for my future, the chance to learn Torah, to become a mensch, may you be inscribed in the book of life!
One of the first things Zev shared was: “My brain is smart; my body is dumb.”
As I read this pamphlet and looked at Zev, I simply couldn’t believe it. What was happening on his inside did not match what I could see on the outside. Externally, he was “broken,” disabled, and seemingly a typical special needs individual. On the inside, he was whole, smart, capable, thoughtful, and articulate. The staff member who introduced me to Zev and his booklet told me this breakthrough not only enormously transformed the way he views Zev, but it has also had a tremendous impact on the way he views all the campers, especially the non-verbal ones.
The bottom line is this: We have no idea what is going on inside a person, what is happening beneath the surface. This lesson is true outside the walls of Camp HASC and it applies in both directions. How many people who seem “whole” on the outside are really broken inside? How many who seem abled on the surface, are in fact disabled emotionally or spiritually beneath it?
Remember, there is an entire person before you, an inside and outside, what you can see and know, and what you will never fully understand. While some look broken on the outside, they are whole on the inside, and there are those who look whole on the outside, but really are struggling with brokenness inside.
