bar mitzvah

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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Original Article Published on The Jerusalem Post

Every Jewish man remembers his bar mitzvah.

Some even remember parts of their haftarah. Rarely does this ‘feat’ get them anywhere in life. Not the case for New York’s NBC TV sports anchor and reporter, Bruce Beck.

Bruce grew up in Livingston, New Jersey, 25 miles southwest of Manhattan. Following a traditional, pretty much unremarkable, bar mitzvah in 1969, he attended Ithaca College in upstate New York and became a sports broadcaster. Beck has been the weekend sports anchor for News 4 New York for the past 11 years.

As part of Beck’s ‘dream job,’ he has covered Super Bowl XLII, the World Series, the NBA finals, the Stanley Cup Finals, The US Open Tennis Championship, the US Open Golf Championship, the NCAA Final Four and the Kentucky Derby.

Nothing, however, he maintains, compares to his’s coverage of the 2004 Olympics in Athens, Greece, when windsurfer Gal Friedman became the first

Israeli to ever win an Olympic gold medal.

“I was down at the windsurfing venue trying to get an interview,” reports Beck. “The way it works is that you wait in the mixed zone, a little control area behind fences, with all of the international reporters.”

Beck was waiting patiently when all reporters were told that Gal Friedman would not be coming through the mixed zone.

After the 1972 Munich massacre, Israeli athletes simply do not grant en-masse interviews.

But Beck was determined. He called Jerusalem and got a hold of Israel’s press liaison in an attempt to find out where in Athens the Israeli delegation was staying. He was then given the name of the local Israeli press secretary in Greece.

After a lot of schmoozing, and his relevation of the fact that he was Jewish, the pleasant, persistent reporter was given the name of the hotel.

When Beck arrived at the location, the prospects of meeting Friedman seemed slim. Again, all the reporters were waiting behind a fence.

“I just needed to get in to interview Friedman. What could I do? I couldn’t speak or read Hebrew very well. I wasn’t a very good Hebrew school student. But I have a very good memory. I am a reporter. And to this day, I remembered my entire haftarah by heart.

“So I started singing my haftarah, the special one for Machar Chodesh – the lovely story of David and Jonathan – for the Israeli press secretary. He was so moved that he said, ‘Bruce, come in, we want you to talk to Gal.’”

And Beck got the exclusive – he was the only reporter in the world granted access to Gal Friedman.

“Gal knew the whole story. He knew that I sang for the press secretary. He laughed. We talked about Munich, the fight for survival of Jews in their homeland, what it would be like to hear Hatikvah that night as he received his gold medal, etc.”

Beck looks back fondly on the story as a rare moment when a reporter’s religious background actually opened an important door, and when the reporter became part of his own story.

“Journalists from all around the world wanted to know why Gal Friedman was such a big story, and how I was picked to interview him.”

“Here I was in Athens, Greece – 4,500 miles from home, in the cradle of Western Civilization – never prouder to be an American – never prouder to be a Jew.”


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Two young men from Connecticut recently celebrated their b’nai mitzvah in a special way – dedicated to Righteous Gentiles who saved Jews during the Holocaust.

Joshua Genn of Greenwich, and Adam Ehrman-Shapiro of Litchfield, chose to participate in the Jewish Foundation for the Righteous’ (JFR) Bar/Bat Mitzvah Twinning Program.

When Joshua was preparing for his Oct. 9, 2006, bar mitzvah during Sukkot at Congregation Agudath Sholom in Stamford, he began investigating ways to make his bar mitzvah more meaningful.

Joshua, a seventh-grade student at the Westchester/Fairfield Hebrew Academy, read through descriptions of many Righteous Gentiles on the JFR Web site and found them to be fascinating.

“I liked Irena Sendler,” he said. “Even though she was not Jewish, she got people out of the Warsaw Ghetto and smuggled weapons to people.”

The entry for Sendler on the JFR Web site notes that she was a health worker who had access to the Warsaw Ghetto and led hundreds of Jewish children out of the ghetto to safe hiding places. Sendler, a member of the Polish underground, helped smuggle children (sometimes sedated) in potato sacks and coffins. She was eventually arrested, imprisoned and sentenced to death in October 1943 – but she was saved when members of the Polish underground bribed one of the Germans to stop the execution. She is currently in her 90s, lives in Warsaw, Poland, and reportedly doesn’t think of herself as a hero: “I want the Jewish community to know that there was a resistance and a spirit among the Jews in the ghetto.” 
Joshua reported that friends came up to him to say, “We think we’ll do a twinning bar mitzvah as well!”

Joshua’s parents, Ireland-born Alan and England-born Michelle, were pleased with Joshua’s decision to support JFR.

“Even ‘Schindler’s List’ didn’t highlight how many Righteous Gentiles saved Jews. It is a bit of a forgotten cause, and the organization [which supports people who, by definition, are in their 80s and 90s] has a limited time frame and needs immediate help,” said Alan Genn.

Saving One Life
One month after Joshua’s bar mitzvah, Adam Ehrman-Shapiro shared the story of another Righteous Gentile, Vladimir Chernovol, at his Nov. 11, 2006 bar mitzvah at the Chabad of Northwest Connecticut-LitchfieldJewish Community Center. Adam’s mother, Judith, began searching online for organizations so that Adam could “do some type of community service and give back to the community.”

“I was deeply touched by the work and mission of JFR. It is a very Jewish idea – to save one life is to save the whole world,” she said.

This phrase appears on the cover of the personalized invitations that many families participating in the twinning program, including the Ehrman-Shapiro family, choose for their children’s b’nai mitzvah.

The Ehrman-Shapiros have celebrated the b’nai mitzvah of two sons in two years, and both have participated in the JFR twinning program.

“These Righteous Gentiles risked life and limb to save our people in Europe with full knowledge that they were risking their lives and the lives of their families,” Judith said.

Chernovol was a Ukrainian teacher out for a walk in 1942 when he encountered Gregory Lantsman, a Jewish pilot in the Soviet Army whose plane was shot down over the Ukraine. Chernovol learned that Lantsman was Jewish and that the Germans had already killed his family. Chernovol quickly realized that Lantsman would surely be caught and killed. He immediately offered to take him in. Chernovol worked hard to obtain Ukrainian identity papers for Lantsman, but the Germans soon began forcibly taking young Ukrainian men for hard labor. Though Lantsman was selected, he managed to escape and return to Chernovol’s home, where he hid until liberation in May 1944. Chernovol is in his 80s and still lives in the Ukraine.

Adam was pleased with his bar mitzvah and with the twinning program.

Said Adam, an eighth-grader who is home-schooled, “I thought it was a nice thing to do, and my friends came up to me and told me they thought it was cool.”

Following a dinner party and an evening of sports, Adam was back at shul early the next morning to put on his tefillin.

“Adam participates in the Tefilin Bank, where you received a free set of tefillin if you agree to put them on daily,” said his mother.

Both young men and their families agree that participating in the Bar/Bat Mitzvah Program of the JFR enhanced and gave meaning to their b’nai mitzvah.

JFR was created in 1986 to provide financial assistance to non-Jews who risked their lives and often the lives of family members to save Jewish lives during the Holocaust. Today, the JFR supports more than 1,600 aged and needy rescuers in 28 countries, and they run a Holocaust teacher education program for middle and high school teachers and Holocaust center personnel.

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