My Brain Is Smart, My Body Is Dumb

This past Shabbos, I prayed at the synagogue with probably the worst decorum in the world. People were talking, some were screaming, shrieking, and hollering, others were stomping their feet, banging on the tables, hitting the walls, and jumping up and down. It was the most distracting service I’ve ever experienced – and by far the holiest I’ve been privileged to witness.

The Shul at Camp HASC is filled with boys and girls and men and women with special needs, physical and developmental disabilities including autism, Down’s Syndrome, cerebral palsy, and others. Few can participate in the prayer service in the traditional sense; many are not verbal, and most don’t seem cognitively capable. Yet one cannot help but feel the noises being transmitted from the holy, pure souls of HASC’s campers ascend to the highest places of prayer.

HASC is staffed by a roster of angels who selflessly devote themselves in ways that are superhuman. Because of the level of care and support necessary, each camper has a counselor, a one-to-one ratio. They shower, change, carry, push, cradle, and most of all, smother their campers with love.

Visiting HASC, you cannot come out the same way you entered, as you witness the Jewish People’s immense capacity for kindness, for loving a fellow Jew with no judgment or conditions, and you cannot help but inspired to improve your own.

I met an autistic, 15-year-old young man named Zev, who is mostly nonspeaking. Until recently, little was known about his thoughts, feelings, and aspirations. After days of diagnostic testing, the "experts" had determined that Zev had the intelligence of an 18-month-old. But in the last few years, Zev and his similar friend and fellow camper Srulik have worked with an extraordinary communication therapist who utilized the latest techniques to teach how to type and communicate non-verbally.

My brain is smart; my body is dumb.

It turns out that while on the outside Zev and Srulik seem developmentally stunted, often unable to understand, they take it all in and are full of deep thoughts, ideas, and words of Torah.

Last month, in honor of his sister’s wedding, Zev’s parents published a booklet of his Torah thoughts that he typed letter by letter. Zev’s first entry said the following:

Moses could not talk perfectly. In spite of this disadvantage, he was our greatest teacher. It seems to me the lesson is clear. It is not the talking that makes a man great, it is the listening and understanding of the messages of God. I think I never had the ability to know my listening was my strength because I looked only at a lonely, quiet life. Now I have hope for my future, the chance to learn Torah, to become a mensch, may you be inscribed in the book of life!

The booklet has entries on several Torah portions, Jewish holidays and concludes with a message Zev typed to be shared with students of a class he joined to study Torah three times a week:

My name is Zev, I am happy to learn here. I have autism and I cannot talk very well, but I think normally. Please do not be concerned If I make noise or organize things. I may not be able to control my impulses. Please talk to me normally and not simplified. I look forward to being in the class on Prophets.

One of the first things Zev shared was: "My brain is smart; my body is dumb.”

As I read this pamphlet and looked at Zev, I simply couldn’t believe it. What was happening on his inside did not match what I could see on the outside. Externally, he was “broken,” disabled, and seemingly a typical special needs individual. On the inside, he was whole, smart, capable, thoughtful, and articulate. The staff member who introduced me to Zev and his booklet told me this breakthrough not only enormously transformed the way he views Zev, but it has also had a tremendous impact on the way he views all the campers, especially the non-verbal ones.

We have no idea what is going on inside a person.

The bottom line is this: We have no idea what is going on inside a person, what is happening beneath the surface. This lesson is true outside the walls of Camp HASC and it applies in both directions. How many people who seem “whole” on the outside are really broken inside? How many who seem abled on the surface, are in fact disabled emotionally or spiritually beneath it?

Ethics of the Fathers, a collection of Mishnaic statements of the Sages, teaches: “Don’t judge your fellow until you reach his place” (2:5). One can never reach the place of their fellow, we can’t know their experiences, history, unique personality, assets and liabilities, talents and temptations, so how could we judge them? We don’t have access to reach their place, their innermost world, what is happening inside, so how could we have an opinion or sit in judgment?

I am not saying we shouldn’t hold accountable those who have used their free will to injure, harm, or make choices that impact others negatively. However, the Sages are enjoining us not to assume, judge or disparage simply based on what we see. One would have to “reach his or her place,” something we simply cannot do.

Remember, there is an entire person before you, an inside and outside, what you can see and know, and what you will never fully understand. While some look broken on the outside, they are whole on the inside, and there are those who look whole on the outside but really are struggling with brokenness inside.