Jeffrey (now Vicki, but not in 2002, so, for purposes of this story, I will refer to my younger child as Jeffrey) was a non-believer. He told us at the age of 3 he didn’t believe in God. I still wanted him to go through with religious education to understand his background, his place in the sociological world and the moral underpinnings of our religion. He had also seen his big brother go through his own bar mitzvah four years earlier and knew that David received his own lap-top computer as his gift from us. THAT Jeffrey desperately wanted, so he suffered through Sunday School for a while.

At a certain point, it became clear that Jeffrey was different in many ways from a neuro-typical child. It was difficult enough to get through a school day. I pulled him from Sunday School and hired the patient woman who had tutored David in the final days before his bar mitzvah to tutor Jeffrey full-time in preparation for his.

I also extracted certain promises from our Temple’s rabbi. At the time, we had a large congregation with so many children that all b’nai mitzvot were doubles; there were two children involved. That wouldn’t work for Jeffrey. He had to be the only child on the day of the service. And we had to be able to pull the plug at any time, even at the last minute. The rabbi had a youth orientation, was very accommodating and agreed to my requests. Jeffrey’s date was during spring vacation, not a popular time. It was a few weeks before he actually turned 13, but I was assured that was “kosher”.

Michelle, Jeffrey’s tutor, came to our home one afternoon a week and prepped him on all the Hebrew prayers he had to learn, as the child really co-officiates at the service. It was slow going. By the time he entered 7th grade he barely went to school. He disliked being in class and spent most of the day in the Special Education Resource Room. The teacher there was very nice and tried her best, but Jeffrey could not be coaxed out. He sat with one other boy and played video games. Writing was problematic for him. He knew the rules of grammar well, but couldn’t put words to paper. Any sort of decisions were difficult.

By this time Jeffrey had three diagnoses: ADHD (which is really a misnomer, he pays rapt attention to something he’s interested in, but cannot focus on anything else; very poor executive function skills), Asperger’s Syndrome (now called Autism Spectrum Disorder; Jeffrey is very bright and high-functioning, but had classic features of thought-rigidity, inability to infer, socially awkward, poor motor function, sensory integration issues – he didn’t like to be touched or hugged, among other issues), and Child-onset Bipolar Disorder (he has never displayed mania, but does have bouts of deep depression and would throw huge tantrums as part of the cycle). This made the teaching process slow and at times, painful. To add to the stress, we were undergoing a major home renovation, so chaos reigned. Just when Jeffrey needed calm and order, everything was in turmoil.

With all of Jeffrey’s peers and their parents, we went to Temple one evening and received his Torah portion assignment; the verses from the actual scroll that he would read and interpret on his big morning. His was “Tazria-Metzora”. I couldn’t believe it. Jeffrey’s Torah portion was leprosy! I thought to myself, “This child has no mazel” (the Yiddish word for luck). But we looked closely at the exact verses he had to learn; there were 8 at the end of the portion, about how the person who has been sick is welcomed back into the community after he has been healed. Not too objectionable.

It was time for Michelle to begin teaching Jeffrey not just the Hebrew words, but the “trope”. There is a specific way to chant for every text in the Torah and Jeffrey had to learn all of that as well. But Michelle sank into a depression now too and could not come to work with Jeffrey for several weeks. More delays. I stayed in close touch as she pulled herself up and came back.

I learned several things from David’s bar mitzvah. Keep things as simple as possible. Let the professionals do most of the work. Since we knew to limit how much Jeffrey could possibly learn, we didn’t make him learn the Kiddish (the blessing over the wine), which is performed by the celebrant at the Friday night service the evening before his ceremony. Therefore, I didn’t do the candle lighting either. So our whole family didn’t go to that service. Therefore, I could have a nice dinner for my out-of-town guests at their hotel. Unlike four years earlier, I did not have it at my home. We didn’t have to rush off.

I used a party-planner for some of David’s events. “What will the theme be?” “David is having a bar mitzvah.” “Oh, you’re one of THOSE.” I don’t believe in “themes” that have nothing to do with the actual event. Keep it simple. David’s was in the autumn, so we used autumnal colors. That was about it.

This time, I used the same person, but had her do much more and this time, I had the luncheon following at the Temple, not another venue (this was also the big party, nothing separate for children). I had a magician, someone doing caricatures, a DJ leading dancing, a nicely catered meal. I wanted everyone to enjoy themselves. I had all out-of-town guests back to my house for dinner later and for brunch on Sunday morning, everything catered. A few in-town cousins wanted to stop by to see their family and of course I agreed.

Part of limiting what Jeffrey would do during the service was handing off the Haftarah portion, even though it is read in English in a typical Reform Jewish service. Still, this large chunk of the service was given to my brother, Rabbi Rick Sarason. It is done immediately following the Torah portion. (The Haftarah is another Biblical reading, but not from the Torah – the five books of Moses, but from another part of the Bible.) Rick and our Temple rabbi agreed to that. Because he could, my brother chanted it in Hebrew. It was truly lovely.

Slowly, Jeffrey learned all he needed to. School was still a nightmare, but Michelle and I were able to work with him at home. Dan and I laid the groundwork to pull him from the public school and get him into a Special Ed school the following school year.

Newton told us they had a special classroom for kids like him called the “Bridge Program” in a different school. We moved him to that program. The school was further away and the program was no better. Our one memory was the teacher told Jeffrey where he could get a good Slushie. Jeffrey has no memory of 7th grade. It was such an awful year that he has erased it from his memory bank.

I practiced and practiced with Jeffrey. His pronunciation was always terrific. He is extremely sensitive to sound patterns, even though he cannot sing well. He learned what he needed to. Writing his d’var torah (“Torah talk”; explanation of what his portion was about) was an impossible task. I knew he couldn’t do it, so I wrote it, then had him edit and approve it. He wouldn’t say anything that made him uncomfortable. We took it in for our conference with the rabbi, who also did an edit pass.

We were now weeks away. Jeffrey had rehearsals in the sanctuary with the assistant rabbi and the real Torah scroll. He did very well. The young rabbi said he’d never heard anyone at that point do as well as Jeffrey had. I laughed, “You’ve never met anyone with Asperger’s before.”

Being a Theatre major, I knew it was time to get his speech “up on its feet”. He had to practice it out loud. Everything sounds different when it is spoken, rather than read. He refused. Michelle tried to coax him. He refused. I gave him some “bits” to do during his speech that might get laughs. He listened to my suggestions, but still wouldn’t recite it. I knew I could only push so far before going overboard. I hoped for the best.

The time had come. The suit was bought. Nothing more could be done but pray. We had a nice dinner at the hotel with our guests, not rushed and the evening was complete when my dear cousin Gregory showed up, just off his flight from London. We were all delighted. We got him his food and relaxed. We were all thrilled that he had made the trip.

Family had an early photo call. Cousin Jane was again the photographer. She’s a sensational photographer, but this time her whole family were there to help celebrate. And this time, only grandmothers were alive. My father had died when Jeffrey was a baby, but Dan’s father had passed much more recently and Jeffrey missed his grandfather; we all did.

Dan, Jeffrey and I waited with the rabbi to begin the service. We came up onto the bima with him and took our seats beside the ark, which holds the Torah scrolls. Jeffrey and the rabbi led the service and all went well. Then the Torah service began. The rabbi called us to stand beside our son and watch as he read Hebrew words, handwritten by a scribe on the rolled-up parchment, signifying that he had entered into the covenant of the Jewish people along with his ancestors. I looked at this child, so bright, so troubled, so full of promise and hoped for the best. We stood on his right side. From where I stood, I had a clear view of Michelle, seated in the congregation. I looked at every word as my son chanted. He didn’t miss a beat. I looked up at Michelle. We winked at each other. Mission accomplished!

With Michelle

Dan and I took our seats. Now Jeffrey stood alone. It was time for him to teach a lesson from his Torah portion. I would like to summarize, but can’t quite. You must picture this small boy, standing alone, who looks out at the congregation and suddenly realizes he has power and enjoys it. This is what he said to the assembled people that day, more than 18 years ago:

My Torah portion is Metzora, from the book of Leviticus, chapter 14, verses 1-8. This portion describes how the priest helps the person afflicted with leprosy become clean and rejoin his tribe after his skin afflictions heal. In Biblical times, there was little knowledge of medicine or illness, so any form of illness was scary. People could come close to dying and that made them “unholy”, which is why the priest was part of the healing process. The sick people were separated from the rest of the community.

We can all think about other ways in which people are made to feel separate from our community, whether it is at school or work, in our towns, or just from society in general. We must work at finding ways to welcome people back to the community, to make them feel “holy” again, as the priests did in ancient days. Illness can separate us, like the people with leprosy of Biblical times, and ignorance, and physical differences can, too. There are many ways people may feel apart, whether by others’ intentions or not. However, it is just as important to seek ways to bring people back into the community.

In the past 20 years, we have seen this experience for people who are HIV positive. At first, no one knew what the disease was or how someone could get it. People avoided those who were known to be HIV positive. Eventually, doctors learned how the virus was passed from person to person and that was the  first step in prevention. Now there are medications that keep the virus under control and HIV positive people can lead long, normal lives, and are no longer feared or kept separate from others.

(Paragraph about physical disabilities and Helen Keller)

As many of you know, I, too, have an “invisible disorder”. My brain has a chemical imbalance that most other people don’t have. Because of that, I have many natural talents. I am great at solving visual puzzles, and at doing math problems in my head. It has even helped me learn Hebrew. Others, who historians believe might have similar brains include Thomas Jefferson, Albert Einstein, and maybe even Bill Gates. Just think of what they have accomplished. But this chemical imbalance also makes my senses more sensitive than normal. For example, I can’t stand a high-pitched singing voice, not even my mother’s. My skin is sensitive to being touched. Wearing this necktie bothers me. All this makes me feel different from others at times. Being here today makes me part of the Jewish community and helps me to be with others. It is important for others to understand and accept me, and just as important that I feel a part of a group: my family, friends and this congregation. In becoming a bar mitzvah, I am connecting with all the others who came before me and chanted these words. I, too, have been welcomed to the community by the priestly blessings.

Well! He might not have practiced, but he sure paid attention. When he talked about not being able to tolerate my singing voice, he slowly turned and gave me a LOOK! The whole congregation laughed. And suddenly, he HAD them! Then, when he got to the part about the neck tie, he pulled at it, for emphasis, about how uncomfortable it was. Those were the two stage directions I’d given him, but he’d never practiced. They worked like a charm and he was SO pleased with the reaction he got. And so were we! He was sensational. He introduced his uncle, who chanted the Haftarah in Hebrew, received his blessing in front of the open ark, gave his own prayer, ate some challah and the ceremony was over. Huge success. We went out and greeted our family and friends. He was all smiles.

The party was great fun, eating, dancing, laughing, visiting with everyone. Of course we danced the hora. Gregory had everyone dancing. He’s marvelous.

Finally, it was time to end that part of the day. Dan was ready to take Jeffrey straight out to buy his computer before the evening party began at our house. Jeffrey couldn’t wait. As the three of us walked together in the parking lot, we talked through some of the highlights of the day. There were many. Dan commented on how proud we were of him. Jeffrey reflected for a moment and replied, “You know, I’m proud of myself!”

Betsy Pfau
Retired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.