Original Article in Jerusalem Post:

When E.’s plane from Amman touched down in Rome, she started to cry. After spending a semester studying abroad in Jordan, E., in town to visit friends, felt she could safely put on her Star of David necklace and her prized “If I Forget Thee O Jerusalem” necklace.

Every year, according to NAFSA: Association of International Educators, more than 300,000 American students – 1.6% of the population enrolled in higher education – leave the US bound for universities in Europe, Australia and the Middle East.

Four Jewish-American students – E., D., A., and Z., who preferred not to use their actual names – independently spent a semester studying in Jordan. They spoke with the Magazine about being surrounded by anti-Israel and anti-Jewish sentiments while remaining connected to Israel and Jewish practice. 

Living among the Jordanians

Officially, Jerusalem and Amman have had diplomatic, economic and cultural relations since 1994, when the late Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin and the late Jordanian King Hussein signed a peace treaty, three months after declaring an end to the state of war between the neighboring countries.

But the experience of E. and other American Jewish students studying Arabic language and Middle East studies in Jordan tells a very different story of relations between Jews and Jordanians on the ground. These students often hid their Jewish identities and pro-Israel feelings from host families, language partners and in one case, from a Jordanian Palestinian boyfriend. 

“The only time I explicitly lied,” says E., a student at a large state university in the Midwest, “is when a cab driver asked about my religion.” When she informed him that she was a Christian, he smiled and replied, “We Christians and Arabs are brothers.” In another instance, E.’s Arabic teacher asked the language class to reply to the prompt, “What did you do yesterday?”

“I had to lie,” E. recalls. “I wasn’t going to tell them I was in Israel for Pessah [Passover]!”

D., a student at a private Midwestern university, plans to make aliya upon graduation and work on Israeli-Palestinian dialogue. While in Jordan last year, he observed the public level of antisemitism to be high. His taxi driver announced “Jews in America – lots of money!” D. also learned of a widely-accepted belief that no Jews died in the September 11 attacks and that there is a conspiracy between Jews and ISIS.

E. heard similar comments. One professor taught that Jews in America occupy a prominent place in politics because they have all the money and all the power. Another used a specific Arabic word meaning “to invade” only when referencing Israel, and claimed there was no Arab Spring in Saudi Arabia due to its close relationship with Israel.

“I felt that everything I said had to fit in to the mainstream narrative, and that I wasn’t sharing a huge part of myself,” she says.

A., who also studied in Jordan last year, recounts professors referring to Hamas as “freedom fighters” and to Jordan’s neighbor to the west as “Palestine.” 

Z., a student at a small northeastern private university, had one scary incident when he chanced upon a Muslim Brotherhood rally protesting the US decision to move its embassy to Jerusalem. He had to hide his discomfort and disgust when hearing cries of “Jews are descendants of apes and pigs,” followed by, “We need to fight for Palestine.” During the semester, Z. was shocked to learn that some students “knew more about Neturei Karta than I did!” He reasons, “It fits into a certain narrative – this anti-Zionist fringe group was mainstream to them.”

For all four students, seeing Israeli flags laid across the campus for people to step on was particularly eye-opening. “I was walking with American friends for coffee,” E. says, “and an eight-year-old and his mother stepped on the Israel flag and spit on it.”

Maintaining Jewish identity

For the four students, returning to Israel up to four times during the semester provided a welcome break from their time in Jordan. Crossing back into Jordan wasn’t always simple, though. D. had no problem carrying tefillin in his suitcase when he flew from New York to Amman to begin the semester. But when he tried to come back into the country after spending Rosh Hashana in Israel, he was detained at the border and questioned for two hours. 

He was told, “This is the law – you can’t go into Jordan!” Finally, a supervisor intervened and said in Arabic, “You will cover them up. Don’t take them out or use them in public!” D. did use his tefillin daily, but he made sure to pray in his room with the curtains closed.

D, who describes himself as “a religious Jew,” bought a crock pot, ate pita and hummus in some restaurants, and ate Shabbat meals with friends. Yet he deleted his phone’s Hebrew keyboard and went to Israel for most major holidays.

His true identity was nearly discovered while sitting in a Starbucks. A nearby woman saw Hebrew letters on his computer screen and whispered “Yahood!” 

All students employed tricks while in Jordan to maintain their connection to Judaism and Israel. Student A. baked hamentashen for Purim and called them “American cookies.” E. had a secret “Jewish box” in her room for keeping matza during Passover, and she was careful to get her “Hebrew fix” of Israeli news sources while in the safety of her room. Z. made sure to consume (Jordanian) wine and pita each Friday night. 

Student A. met a Palestinian Jordanian boyfriend through mutual friends. “It ended because he learned I was working at the Shimon Peres Center for Peace,” based in Tel Aviv. “He said, ‘Peres was a war criminal.’ We broke up – over ‘differences of opinion.’”

In a class of their own

The four students flew to Jordan to improve their language skills. Former meccas of Arabic study include Beirut, Cairo and Damascus – but these are no longer viable options. And Morocco, which currently offers an Arabic language immersion program, doesn’t offer exposure to the Jordanian Palestinian dialect which is of greatest interest to them, given their interests in future careers in diplomacy, military, academic and peace work between Israeli Jews and Palestinians. 

CET Academic Programs, through which all four studied abroad, has been sending students to Amman since the summer of 1994. While they don’t know the exact number of Jewish students studying in Jordan in any given year, a representative of the program said, “Anecdotally, I would say there are a number of Jewish students” with varying levels of connection to religion who participate in the program – “perhaps ranging from one to five on each term.” 

The program is aware that the issue of disclosing religious identity is complicated. “We offer students the chance to disclose information about their identity, but many opt not to,” said the representative, who preferred not to give her name. She mentioned that there is time built in during pre-trip orientation to discuss such issues. 

“Sharing connections to Israel, particularly citizenship, is not advised, given political tensions. We do our best to prepare students for the fact that they are highly likely to hear offensive and/or prejudiced language about Jewish people,” she said. 

E feels differently. “When the program director saw my evaluation at the end of the semester, she was shocked I didn’t feel comfortable as a Jew. And I was shocked that she was shocked!”

To never return?

D. will return to Jordan this summer for further study of Arabic. 

A has made aliya and currently serves in the IDF where soldiers in her unit initially thought that she was a Jordanian spy. She was recently asked to use her Arabic language skills as she escorted visiting Jordanian military officials back across the border. Looking back, she notes, “It is complicated – it opened up a narrative I never heard.” 

Z., who describes himself as “all over the Israel spectrum,” with past involvements in J Street and AIPAC, says his greatest disappointment was at the lack of knowledge among the other American students. He concludes, “The peace treaty is only between governments – not between people. There are no people-to-people ties.” 

E. concludes succinctly, “Being a Jew in Jordan sucked!”

Yet Rabbi Marc Schneier, founder and president of The Foundation for Ethnic Understanding, and who in 2011 was the first rabbi to be received in Bahrain by King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa, remains hopeful. “More young Jews and Muslims are recognizing that we share a common faith,” he says. “Our singular destiny must have caring and concern for each other.”

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Original Article in The JNS:

When Rabbi Shmuel Halpert, outgoing Knesset member of the haredi party Agudat Yisrael, invited Rabbi Isaac Schapira to a meeting in July 2011, Schapira’s life changed forever. He was convinced that he had to improve the situation for Jewish cemeteries worldwide, which were suffering from disrepair, neglect and vandalism from outside communities.

Schapira describes Halpert as a pioneer in fighting for the rescue of Jewish cemeteries. “I don’t know who will continue this fight. I think you and your connections are best-suited for it. Just dive in!” said Halpert.

And so, Schapira did just that. “It spoke to me. It broke my heart.”

He has used resources, connections, bridge-building skills, determination and values that he learned from late father, Rabbi Avraham Schapira (Knesset member from the Agudat Israel party and chairman of the Knesset Finance Committee) to found the European Jewish Cemeteries Initiative.

The ESJF was founded in 2015 to begin the process of physically protecting Jewish burial sites in Central and Eastern Europe, particularly in places where Jewish communities were wiped out during the Holocaust. ESJF has so far placed fences around 102 Jewish cemeteries in six European countries. In addition, it has conducted mass field surveys of sites with an impressive 1,500 reports published to date.

Project partners in Europe and Israel

Schapira is proud that his organization has built an infrastructure that European governments recognize as “professional and economically efficient.” For instance, ESJF has obtained governmental funding from the federal government of Germany.

In Israel, Schapira has managed to assemble an impressive coalition of supporters, including Yossi Beilin, scholar—former Knesset and senior Cabinet member, who has held such important government positions as Minister of Justice and Minister of Religious Affairs. Beilin has served as a board member since 2013. He is actively involved in working with international governments with helping secure financial resources.


Rabbi Isaac Schapira, founder of the European Jewish Cemeteries Initiative, sitting with a portrait of his late father, Rabbi Avraham Schapira. Credit: Howard Blas.

Acknowledging the compelling nature of the work, he says: “It became a major issue for me. We found out in a short time that we are the only body on the ground doing the work of finding [and then funding] cemeteries in a systemic way. We are working with the map and creating a body of knowledge in order to prioritize and address the most endangered cemeteries first.”

Knesset members committed to the project include Ksenia Svetlova of the Zionist Union Party, and Rabbi Uri Maklev of the ultra-religious Agudath Yisrael Party. Schapira is proud that members of diverse parties have come together to address the issue of European cemeteries.

Maklev reports, “We got involved when Rabbi Yitzhak Schapira turned to us. He works with much devotion and donates time and money. There is a real danger in the old cemeteries in Europe when they are left unprotected. The issue has worsened over the years. Jewish cemeteries remain unguarded and in constant danger, as Jewish community members now live far from its cemeteries. In addition, anti-Semitism and vandalism exist. It is a right and duty to act for this important cause. We must not stand idly by!”

Svetlova first became aware of the issue of Jewish cemeteries on a trip abroad. Svetlova, who immigrated from Russia in 1991, and served as a journalist and Arab-affairs analyst for Channel 9, was in Libya in 2005 in the remote town of Zlitan when she discovered “the horrible picture of devastation—broken or absent gravestones” at Jewish cemeteries. “It made me very sad. All we have is a grave. We cannot allow us to forget our past. A person who forgets his past has no future.”

Svetlova is also a member of the Immigration, Absorption and Diaspora Committee, where she initiated the Knesset Caucus for the Preservation of Jewish Cemeteries Abroad. She says she is proud that the caucus includes people “from all sides of the aisle.”

On the ground in Europe

Beilin says “people are very worried that cemeteries are vanishing. If we don’t save them now, they won’t be there.”

He has seen a shift from the initial work of providing fencing to cemeteries, to “finding those in immediate danger and giving priority to them, even if they are not in the most convenient places.” He estimates that “we have already lost between 4,000 and 10,000 cemeteries.”

Schapira adds that “the Jewish world needs to know how many Jewish cemeteries are disappearing and are at risk of disappearing due to vandalism, and geological and other reasons.”

Beilin and Schapira shared many stories of cemeteries discovered by accident, including a non-Jewish girl riding her bike in a forest and taking a photo of what she thought was a tombstone. Or of local people providing unexpected assistance to the work of ESJF. “People must have seen us working on a cemetery. One week later, we arrived and saw tombstones there which one week earlier had been missing. They must have thought that, if this was so important, we will give back what was stolen,” reports Schapira.


The restored and preserved Jewish cemetery in Frampol, Poland. Credit: Courtesy of ESJF.

The group’s CEO Philip Carmel praises such work. “Rabbi Schapira has succeeded in changing the way we address the issue of Jewish cemetery protection. … He has brought the issue to the level of national governments and pan-European institutions, so that [it] is dealt with not just as an issue of Jewish heritage, but one of Europe’s common heritage. He has achieved this by absolute strength of conviction and by deep personal commitment.”

Chief Rabbi of Poland Michael Schudrich also admires Schapira’s efforts and feels that he is “following the spirit of his father in understanding what it means to fight for Klal Yisrael.” He is impressed with his drive and ability to bring diverse groups of Jews together. “It is about bringing Jews together for kavod hamet, ‘honoring the dead.’ It is important to build a future.”

Even the Queen of England has recognized Schapira for his lifetime of service. In 2013, she bestowed on him the title “OBE,” Order of the British Empire, for, as Schapira humbly reports, “building bridges of friendship between the British government and the Orthodox communities in England and Israel.”

In our two in-person meetings in New York City, Schapira prefers to direct praise to members of his team, especially Carmel, for “his commitment to the project and his unusual capabilities to achieve so much and so efficiently.”

Beilin agrees, saying the CEO is “there on the ground. He is a very important player. He knows the material of cemeteries. He is so dedicated to the work.”

The lifting of the Iron Curtain

“For almost 73 years,” reports Carmel, “the Jewish world has not been able to deal with the protection of these sites for a number of reasons. Firstly, that the priority after the Shoah was rightly to rebuild Jewish life, communities and institutions, as well as a new Jewish state. Secondly, because for most of this time, these abandoned sites, which were home to thriving Jewish communities for hundreds of years, lay behind the [Soviet] Iron Curtain.

“But since that period, resources have tended to go to specific sites, where there is a particular family connection or where a famous personnage was buried. At such sites, one has found a situation where individual demand from the West and readily available resources has met cheap supply of labor and materials in the East. This has pushed up prices, making the overall task of cemetery protection more difficult. That is why the ESJF as a starting point has looked to change this whole methodology—to work in a professional manner under strict processes of contracts and tenders. To reach viable and legitimate costs, enabling the maximization of the amount of sites we can protect.

“The ESJF looks where possible to target sites which are beneath the radar. Some of these places had all their community wiped out; there are no descendants. So these sites are a priority for us, of course, because if we don’t fence them, nobody will. In the major countries where we work, in particular—Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova—probably 25 percent of the sites have already been destroyed. And they are being destroyed by the week. From our mass surveys, we are looking at some two-thirds of all the remaining sites requiring urgent fencing.”


A restored Jewish cemetery in the Serbian town of Bela Crkva. Credit: Courtesy of ESJF.

Schudrich notes that “nothing was possible until 1989 and the fall of Communism. Then, we started working on mikvaot, kosher food, cheders, minyanim . . . ”

A mission for the Jewish people

Svetalova relates that she is “very grateful for the work being done in Eastern Europe, and is hopeful Jews from the United States and other places will get involved as they learn more.

“Many American Jews come from Eastern Europe and will be able to relate to the importance of the project,” she says. “There must be cooperation between all sides of the Jewish world. We must try to use all connections in the U.S., Europe and Israel with governments in order to put this project on the map. Time is running out. If we don’t, we will find out it is too late!”

“Going forward,” notes Carmel, “we need to look at this as a mission for the Jewish people that is achievable. All peoples and governments protect their cemeteries. Any American can relate that just by driving up from the South to New York—of how the national government has protected graves in Civil War battlefields for more than 150 years ago. Or the graveyards in Normandy protected by the Allied governments from World War I from 100 years ago.

“As Jews,” he continues, “we have the same basic responsibility.”

Today, he notes, thanks to the work of the ESJF and many others, “we know the numbers, we know the areas of greatest risk, we know the costs, and we know the speed it can be done in. This is no longer a black hole. It can be achieved.”

Schapira reports proudly that “in 2017, we rescued our 102nd cemetery. We have the most wonderful, competent team and can do 300 a year.”

He continues to work tirelessly to make sure it’s not too late, that the work can be accomplished—but, he adds, “only if the Jewish nation worldwide develops a feeling of responsibility and partnership to allow this apparatus to continue operating.”

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Original Article in Chabad.org:

Sometimes what happens in Vegas shouldn’t just stay in Vegas. Levi Harlig’s extraordinary bar mitzvah is one of them.

Levi gave a flawless reading of Parshat Naso, the longest Torah portion of the year, and delivered a Chassidic discourse in Yiddish and Hebrew last Shabbat morning at Chabad of Green Valley/Henderson in Las Vegas. The following evening, the 13-year-old sang and drummed for three hours with entertainer Avraham Fried at a community-wide celebration at the Four Seasons Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip.

That would be an exciting experience for any bar mitzvah boy. But for members of the community who have known Levi since birth, the accomplishment was nearly miraculous.

When Levi was 15 months old, his mother, Chaya Harlig, co-director with her husband, Rabbi Mendy Harlig, of Chabad of Green Valley/Henderson, realized that something was not quite right about their son. “He wasn’t making eye contact or following directions. We got him into all kinds of therapies right away—occupational therapy, speech therapy and more.” Three months later, the Harligs learned that Levi had autism. He has difficulties with personal space and reading social cues, and he often focuses on topics of interest to him but not necessarily to other people.

“My husband took it a lot harder than I did,” said Chaya. “I think women have more bitachon [faith]. We set out to make Levi the best Levi he can be!”

In response to her husband’s concerns about where Levi would go to school, whether he would have a bar mitzvah and other issues related to Levi’s future, Chaya reassured him. “He will have a bar mitzvah, he will get married, and he will use his talents. He is really special!”

Harlig quickly realized that his wife was right. Levi has extraordinary talents, including perfect pitch and what his parents refer to as “audiographic memory.” Levi is able to remember essentially anything he hears, including songs, speeches, conversations he has heard in synagogue or around the Shabbat table.

The bar mitzvah boy shares Torah learning at the celebration. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

The bar mitzvah boy shares Torah learning at the celebration. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

Rabbi Harlig began including Levi in the life of the synagogue from an early age. “Each Yom Kippur, I would give my talk and then find a song in English connected to the sermon for Levi to sing. There was not a dry eye in the shul!” Levi regularly leads the congregation in prayer, and he greets congregants by name, upon arrival—often in a loud voice from up on the bimah!

Levi’s important role in the synagogue has allowed members of the community to become comfortable with a person with disabilities. “Levi is bringing people into the Henderson Chabad. He has a warm smile and welcomes everyone!” reports his father.

Wayne Krygier, a member of the Las Vegas Chabad community since relocating from Canada in 1989, concurs. “Levi is the heart and soul of the synagogue. The shul is his life—he feels so at home here!” Krygier jokes that Levi’s greeting everyone in a loud voice as they enter serves as an incentive to arrive on time.

Dr. George Harouni, a local dentist and regular Chabad of Henderson attendee, observes, “People are now accustomed to seeing someone like Levi. He has been part of the community since birth; no one thinks of him as being different.”

When Levi’s bar mitzvah approached, his grandfather, Rabbi Kalman Shor, who also serves as a rabbi for the Chabad of Henderson community, taught him Torah cantillation and sat with him for regular practice sessions. He notes that Levi’s musical talents made his job “much, much easier—once he learns it, he remembers it.” The congregation was clearly moved at the bar mitzvah. “They thought it was beautiful and emotional. And they were impressed that he made no mistakes.”

Jeff Berkow, a retired South African-born businessman and longtime active volunteer in Chabad of Henderson reports: “Levi was flawless! He sang the trope [cantillation] like a chazzan with 30 years of experience. People were amazed!”

Singing with Avraham Fried. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

Singing with Avraham Fried. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

High Praise From a Noted Singer

Levi’s bar mitzvah celebration continued with an Avraham Fried concert, attended by 300 people, a natural choice given Fried’s musical talents and personal qualities. Harlig explains, “He is a beautiful singer, a caring person, and he always showed love for Levi. I figured people would see them sing together, love it and get inspired. They were on a high.”

Fried reflects on the special Shabbat and evening noting, “I knew this bar mitzvah would be very special and memorable but, boy, this was out of the park! Levi loves music. He sings beautifully, and has a great ear and rhythm. He knows all my songs exactly as they appear on the CD. Every musical line and harmony, every place where the song modulates, and the intros and endings, not to mention every special inflection that I sing! We sang so many songs together—Hebrew and English. Levi was conducting the orchestra and was totally in charge. I am lucky to have met Levi years ago. I’m lucky he invited me to his special celebration. I’m very happy he has such good taste in music!”

The community’s embrace of Levi and inclusion of people with disabilities extends beyond one special Shabbat. The Harligs and the community dream of making Chabad of Green Valley/Henderson the “central address” in Las Vegas for including people with disabilities. “Going forward, we hope to continue showing the importance of inclusion, which Chabad has been doing for many years—unconditional love for all humans,” says Harlig.

Father and grandfather listen to the bar mitzvah boy. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

Father and grandfather listen to the bar mitzvah boy. (Photo: Norina Kaye)

Harouni is excited about Chabad’s potential to become even more welcoming to people with disabilities. “Inclusion will be a great addition to our shul. We could be a real center to offer people with disabilities a sense of belonging and an opportunity to be a part of the community.”

Berkow, who assists Harlig in running Chabad, proudly notes, “I want our Chabad to be theshul of inclusion, the place that caters to people with special needs and where inclusion is the centerpiece.” He also hopes Chabad of Green Valley/Henderson will serve as a satellite to the already successful Friendship Circle 15 miles to the north.

Chaya Harlig notes that Chabad recently purchased land, and future plans include Levi’s Place, where people can come for homework help, tutoring, programming and friendship. “We will have a community center serving many families. We will be inclusive and work together with all children on all levels.” She continues to hear of the impact that Levi has had on the Las Vegas Jewish community. “Because of him, people are becoming more religious, closer to the synagogue and Hashem.” She notes that she knows other shluchim families with children with disabilities, and that Chabad offers resources and support.

(Photo: Norina Kaye)

(Photo: Norina Kaye)

Inclusion Initiative a Welcome Partner

Rabbi Harlig has found a natural partner in his mission towards greater inclusion the Ruderman Chabad Inclusion Initiative (RCII), directed by Dr. Sarah Kranz-Ciment. RCII is dedicated to building on the philosophy and mission of Chabad-Lubavitch by providing Chabad communities around the globe the education and resources they need to advance inclusion of people with disabilities. RCII engages Chabad’s network of resources to create a culture of inclusion so that all Jews feel welcomed, supported and valued throughout their entire lifecycle.

RCII is producing a song, a music video and an inclusive mural that shows that everyone belongs. It has also developed an an online bar and bat mitzvah guide, titled “Practical Ideas for Inclusive Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.”

Kranz-Ciment is proud of the work of the Harligs, their community and of Levi’s bar mitzvah, which she notes was “an opportunity to publicly show and make a statement about his many talents.” She continues, “Every Jewish soul is meaningful, and is obligated to be Jewish in the best way he or she can. The Rebbe said, ‘Your birthday is the day Hashem decided the world can’t exist without you. Inclusion is a chance to bring this to the forefront and show that what each person can do is valuable.’ All of us have a place in Judaism.”

(Photo: Norina Kaye)

(Photo: Norina Kaye)
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Originally published on Chabad.org

Chabad emissaries’ unique celebration and video for their son with special needs

When the Diskin family was contemplating a move from the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., to Munich in the late 1980s, there was no Chabad presence in Germany, the Berlin Wall was still standing, and they were instructed by the Rebbe’s secretary to get their parents’ permission before considering the move. Thirty years later, Rabbi Yisroel and Chana Diskin speak fluent German, provide for the many needs of the diverse Jewish community of Munich and oversee 19 Chabad centers around the country. The Diskins have also been open with the community about the personal and practical challenges they have encountered during the last 13 years with their youngest son, Zalman, a young man with autism and hearing impairments.

The Diskins were blessed with five children in the first decade of marriage. They always wanted more and began to lose hope that they would have additional children. Then, children numbers six and seven were born back to back. “We were euphoric,” reports Chana Diskin. “When our sixth child, Zalman, was born, the whole community came together for his bris.”

When Zalman was 5 months old, he contracted meningitis, and the Diskins began an unchartered, challenging journey—one that involved a great deal of learning and soul-searching. They noticed a hearing loss at 16 months; he had a cochlear implant after that. At 3 years of age, Zalman began to display symptoms of autism. “We were very determined to do whatever we could to help him recover,” says Chana Diskin.

The Diskins had to juggle their roles as community leaders and as parents who were dealing with the many issues related to Zalman. Chana Diskin processes difficult situations through talking with friends and people close to her. She frequently discussed Zalman in various classes she led; and in “a small, intimate women’s group,” one participant boldly asked, “Did you think you were playing with fire, forcing G‑d’s hand and wanting more kids?”

She feels it took until Zalman was 9 or 10 to come to terms with the fact that “this is who he is and who our family is.” Yet her questions and concerns continued. “When Zalman was 12, it dawned on me that he won’t be able to say a brachah [blessing] or count in a minyan [the quorum of 10 Jewish men needed for public prayer]. It struck a bad chord in me. I was very upset; it insulted me!”

Diskin remained convinced that Zalman understood a lot more about being Jewish than people realized. “We are fascinated by his connection to Yiddishkeit, on his level. Zalman understands about candles, Kiddush and challah on Friday night. He knows to shut off his iPod when we light Shabbat candles and understands that he can’t watch videos on Shabbat. He also knows that he can’t eat non-kosher food in his German public school.”

She and her husband were also torn about whether or not to hold a bar mitzvah ceremony for Zalman. She was struggling with practical and theological issues. “Would it be appropriate to spend so much money on a boy some would think ‘doesn’t get it?’ And it bothered her that it was questionable whether or not Zalman could count in a minyan.

A Beautiful Video Sends a Powerful Message

About half a year before Zalman turned 13, the Diskins approached a good friend and professional filmmaker who noted that there are not many Jewish children with disabilities in the Munich Jewish community. “The filmmakers felt it was important that we film and celebrate Zalman, with all of his imperfections. They felt it would send a strong message.”

The filmmakers, Paula and Daniel Targownik, wanted to make a full-length documentary. After many conversations with the Diskins, the decision was made to keep it shorter. “We didn’t know how Zalman would respond.” The Diskins were ultimately interviewed separately for the film and shared their very different perspectives. “I shared my struggle, why I was upset with G‑d,” reports Chana Diskin. “My husband spoke about how we never signed a contract with Hashem that all would go according to our plan. Both messages are correct—we can struggle, and we can accept.”

The Diskins began to plan the bar mitzvah, hoping that Zalman would be able to learn to wrap tefillin, even though they weren’t sure he would show up at his own bar mitzvah.

As the bar mitzvah video captures, Zalman can exhibit unpredictable and difficult behavior. For example, he started the school year with a period of refusing to get on the bus and with hitting others. When he was younger, he flushed a very expensive cochlear processor down the toilet.

Four months before Zalman’s 13th birthday, the Diskins had an idea—they would have his beloved Singaporean teacher, Lynn, teach Zalman about tefillin. “We know it takes Zalman time to learn things. Lynn had been successful in solving the school bus-refusal issue earlier in the year through creating a step-by-step picture book for getting Zalman on the bus. She offered to make a picture book for tefillin. Although at first I was skeptical, it worked!”

Father and son say the Shema Yisrael prayer.
Father and son say the Shema Yisrael prayer.

Lynn was up for the challenge. Would Zalman rise to the occasion?

Lynn asked Rabbi Diskin to create a video on how to wrap tefillin, which she used as a basis for a step-by-step book for Zalman. She illustrated two boxes—one representing the head and one representing the arm. Zalman learned that each has a home—in the tefillin bag—and does not belong on the floor.

She started on the shel rosh (head) since it was less sensory. Then, she slowly moved to his arm. They practiced with a plastic tefillin prototype since Zalman was likely to throw it. “On the day of the filming, Lynn told my husband that Zalman was ready! I didn’t expect it,” said Chana Diskin.

She knows her son well. “Once he starts a task, he needs to complete it. It was like magic. When they started filming, we pointed to the pictures, and he followed the step-by-step directions, in order. It was like a miracle!”

On Sunday morning, Jan. 21, 2018, members of the Munich Jewish community began to arrive at the bar mitzvah. Pairs of tefillin were on hand for those who wanted to wrap in Zalman’s honor. Transliterated siddurim were available so all would feel comfortable. As the time for the recital of the Shema neared, Zalman was escorted into the service, wearing his tefillin. “He kept them on until va’ed [the final word of the second line after Shema]!” says his very proud mother. Everyone was visibly moved. Then, he got frustrated and left.” The community continued to celebrate with delicious food and music under a tent pitched for the special occasion.

Celebrating the event with the Munich Jewish community.
Celebrating the event with the Munich Jewish community.

Zalman’s bar mitzvah is inspiring and moving. It also beautifully illustrated the many ways to mark becoming bar mitzvah. When most of the Diskin boys became bar mitzvah, they celebrated by delivering a deep discourse from the Rebbe and by reading from the Torah. “My husband is a baal koreh [Torah reader] and wanted his sons to learn to read from the Torah,” reports Chana Diskin. Some sons also led the shacharit (morning) prayer service.

“Since one of our sons was getting married a week later in California, we didn’t have much family at the bar mitzvah. I sent the video to members of our family.”

Her sister, Rivkah Slonim, who is a Chabad emissary at Binghamton University in New York, recalls, “Although the video was without English subtitles, I understood enough to know that this work had potentially a huge audience and could be profoundly impactful.”

The video of Zalman’s bar mitzvah has been hailed as an extraordinarily moving and poignant demonstration that each child and each bar mitzvah is unique. The Diskins and Zalman have come to serve as an important model for families of children with disabilities on their own special journey.

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