Celebrating Diversity – Refashioning our Synagogues and our Minds
A small synagogue that I once belonged to has a ramp, an accessible bathroom, a large print siddur, and a braille siddur especially prepared with the order of service they customarily follow on Friday nights. The ramp was constructed a few years ago with a huge amount of work and good will and fundraising among that community. The accessible bathroom was built as part of a major renovation to the sanctuary a year later. The braille siddur was prepared by a blind woman who visited for a couple of services and offered to make it. The membership committee prepared the large print siddur.
These are all excellent starting places for accommodating persons with disabilities. Nevertheless, there were a number of areas needing improvement. One could make doors easier to open for those with mobility impairments. One can check that none of the rugs or doorways are a challenge for those with walkers, canes or low vision. One needs directional signs so that members and guests know about and can find ramp, accessible bathroom, or siddur. Moreover, it would be wonderful to have signs that go beyond neutral gray, such as those which indicate that the bathroom accommodates wheelchairs and any gender. Such signs could convey a celebratory welcome to all bodies, all genders, all learning abilities, or for that matter, all faiths and colors. As a group it is necessary to take the next steps from tolerating diversity to celebrating humans in all their glorious manifestations.
I became aware of the need to make accessibility access a priority at my then current synagogue when I attended their Rosh Hashanah services in 2017. It was wonderful that people in walkers or wheelchairs could roll up on the ramp, and into the gorgeous new sanctuary, but they could not roll up on the bimah, which was raised a number of inches from the floor. It was difficult to hear clearly due to the acoustics, the size of the room, and the poor sound equipment. The room was crowded with standard size un-padded folding chairs, but nothing set aside for those needing larger, stronger, or softer seating. In light of the need to improve accessibility, I determined at that time to form a team to make the celebration of, as well accommodation of those with disabilities a congregational goal. This did not mean that one could accommodate every need. It was an old building with some things that cannot be made accessible. But once could raise awareness and sensitivity, and make accommodations as far as budget would allow.
This paper foregrounds the need to celebrate diversity, even as we make physical accommodations, learning from the work of two (among many!) contemporary Jewish disability justice activists.
In an interview in The New York Jewish Week, Lauren Tuchman, who is perhaps the first-ever blind female rabbinical student, is quoted as saying
I’m interested in advocating for access in a holistic sense. How can we work to shift assumptions around inclusion being only about providing accommodations such as ramps and Braille siddurim, when inclusion is far broader than that?….It’s also about whether a person feels truly welcome as their whole self in their community.
In addition to removing barriers to moving through our spaces, we need to break down the barriers we erect between ourselves and those who are different from us, the walls of silence, of discomfort, of ignorance – to create ramps which reach from one heart to another, just as well as from the sidewalk to the sanctuary.
Part of being a truly welcoming community is addressing people with inclusive language. This is actually not as easy as it might seem. Do we say “person with a disability?” “disabled person?” “deaf person?” “person hard of hearing?” It matters to all of us to be called by the right name, and we wish to speak of our neighbors correctly and compassionately. However, sometimes our tongues get tied trying to identify people correctly. There is no simple answer to inclusive language. Just as in my queer community, some of us like “queer” and some don’t, so too in the disability community, people self-identify in different ways.
… inclusive language is a fundamental, foundational building block to building a more empathetic society, and there are a few best practices I offer by way of guidance. Always refer to a person in the manner that they wish to be referred. Even and *especially* if, to use disability as an example, they use language you don’t, EG person-first when you prefer identity-first, etc. Some of us, myself included, use a mix of both. Follow the person’s communication patterns, in other words. (Lauren Tuchman, informal communication)
As we work towards getting the names right, even more do we need to create a culture of warm inclusion and to build relationships.
…as important as inclusive language is, what is even more important is the culture you create in your community. A leader can use all of the inclusive language in the book, but if people with disabilities feel that they/we are still being held at arm’s length, we feel that at the very core of our being and that is what remains with us.
I can honestly say that it is the relationship-building, the reaching out, the individual acts of care and genuine desire to get to know me that make the biggest difference. We are each of us whole people. No one likes to be reduced to a particular aspect of their personhood. … what is most important is that we build a foundation of mutuality, authenticity, respect, generosity of spirit, and create communities in which the presence of *everyone* is celebrated. (Lauren Tuchman, informal communication)
Caring relationships are more likely to result when we understand that disability is a dimension of human diversity, with a vibrant culture and rich art of its own. Julia Watts Belser is a Rabbi and PhD whose work centers on rabbinic literature and Jewish ethics, with particular research interests in Jewish feminism, queer culture, environmental thought, and disability studies. In her Tikkun article, “God has Wheels,” Professor Belser writes:
The disability justice movement has drawn many of us together for activism, artistry, and passionate community. In these circles, disability isn’t a medical diagnosis, but a cultural movement. Approaching disability through the lens of culture allows us to appreciate disability as a dimension of human diversity. This perspective has often been overlooked in religious communities. But like the critical interpretive insights of feminist, queer, womanist, and liberation theologies, disability culture can bring vital, transformative insight to questions of spirit.
I claim disability as a vibrant part of my own identity, as a meaningful way of naming and celebrating the intricate unfolding of my own skin and soul.
We learn something quite important from Julia Watts Belser and Lauren Tuchman. Providing a ramp, an accessible bathroom and a braille siddur, while necessary, are not sufficient. If the person accesses the synagogue via a ramp, but we are hesitant to engage them in conversation, if we are not knowledgeable about their needs and their culture, and we don’t ask, they will not feel welcome. We need to educate ourselves to be sure everyone has a special chair if needed, can hear well, and is warmly invited to sit or stand, or to hug or not hug, as they wish. Our goal is create a synagogue community that actively celebrates, as well as accommodates, diversity. In a small shul, one’s pocketbooks might be limited, but one’s hearts are not. The goal must be to truly welcome into our midst people who represent each and every culture – disability culture, LGBTQ culture, cultures of many faiths and colors and bodies, each unique and each valuable.
I fear that by conceptualizing disability primarily as an access problem to be solved, we fail to invite in the vibrant, transgressive potential of disability culture: of a ‘crip’ sensibility that celebrates disability as a way of life, a radically different way of moving through the world…
Let us strive together to break down barriers within ourselves and our communities. Let us refashion the crusted architecture of our minds that keeps the Holy at bay. (Belser)
——————————————————————————————————
Sources:
Belser, Julia Watts. “God on Wheels: Disability and Jewish Feminist Theology.” Tikkun. 29. 27-29, 2014. Rabbi Watts Belser is Assistant Professor at Georgetown University. She works in Jewish Studies, with a focus in Talmud, rabbinic literature, and Jewish ethics. Her research brings ancient texts into conversation with disability studies, queer theory, feminist thought, and environmental ethics.
Tuchman, Lauren: http://jewishweek.timesofisrael.com/lauren-tuchman/ and informal communication.