“I was angry at being reminded that autism had once again framed my world in a way that was ugly and intolerant... I felt a deep anger and sadness that we had been singled out and refused help in a place I thought we had the right to expect welcome, tolerance, and understanding.”
We were called into the Rabbi’s study as the time approached to start my son’s tutoring to get him prepared. This was over a year before his thirteenth birthday. A meeting I thought was to begin the scheduling for Jon’s preparation turned into something very different. This new Rabbi did not intend to honor the arrangements we had made for Jon. Instead, he accused us of trying to usurp our obligation to send my son to their Hebrew school. He told us, “We don’t just bar mitzvah anybody. You never sent your son to the Hebrew program and we would not consider giving him a bar mitzvah just like that.”
My husband and I were dumbfounded. We left the study with our mouth’s hung open and our hearts heavy. I felt as though I had been punched in
the stomach. This person, in the presence of the Hebrew school principal, had turned his back on my family and more importantly refused to help my son. My husband stood in the lobby and said, “I will never step foot into this place again. Find a place for Jonathan.” Ok, I was on it. Where could we go? I called a number of friends and started the search. I began looking for a place to welcome us as a family, a family of imperfection and difficulty. As I considered what had happened, I began to get angry. I was angry at being reminded that autism had once again framed my world in a way that was ugly and intolerant. I again never questioned my faith, as it was always something I did, not felt. Nevertheless, I felt a deep anger and sadness that we had been singled out and refused help in a place I thought we had the right to expect welcome, tolerance, and understanding. I suppose the lesson in the end is that sometimes it is necessary to go through the bad thing to find the really great thing. Not only find a great thing, but also have the understanding that it is a thing of great value. For, if the Rabbi had reluctantly agreed to bar mitzvah my son, I believe he would have done so with indifference at best, and more likely with a level of acrimony. More importantly, we never would have found the synagogue we belong to today. We were referred to a Rabbi who is both wise and patient. He agreed to take us on. He spent the entire year meeting weekly with my son and teaching him with such kindness and conviction it was awesome. My son adored this man and rose to the challenge. At one point the Rabbi said, “I really do not want Jon to read from a piece of paper when he is called to the Torah. (Jon does not know how to read Hebrew, so he learned his portion by transliteration.) The only thing is for Jon to memorize his entire section. I know he can do it.” I was skeptical, but the Rabbi had faith that Jon would prevail. I guess I needed a lesson in faith. Jon did memorize his portion and as the day neared, he proved himself ready. The long story short is that Jon had his bar mitzvah exactly on time and exceeded all expectation. He made us proud in a way that I cannot fully express. He made us proud as parents of a young man being called up to the Torah and taking on the responsibilities of a Jewish adult. For once, he was just a kid having his bar mitzvah, with his proud family around him. He was not a kid with autism that day, and I was just a mom filled with pride at the accomplishment her son had made. He was not her son with autism this day. That was the greatest gift of all. As the day wound down to a close, I gave thanks for the day and thanks for all those things in life. For the first time perhaps since the birth of each of my sons, faith was something I felt...not just something I did.
B. Madeleine Goldfarb, M.A., is Director of Outreach and Education of The Autism Center of UMDNJ-New Jersey Medical School, Newark.
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Autism and Faith
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