The High Holidays and neurodivergence
OpinionGuest columnist

The High Holidays and neurodivergence

We constantly have to navigate the delicate balance between caring for our child’s needs and following our traditions and rituals.

(Photo by Becky Wetherington, courtesy of flickr.com)
(Photo by Becky Wetherington, courtesy of flickr.com)

Imagine that you are in the middle of services on Yom Kippur, the most solemn day in Judaism. You are trying to concentrate on the Shacharit prayer, and suddenly a 6-year-old boy, dressed in a Minecraft T-shirt and shorts, and without a kippah, starts running around the synagogue, making noise and chattering “chichi,” a pair of googly eyes in his hand.
You may think it is disrespectful for parents to dress their child like this, not make him wear a kippah, and allow him to run freely around the synagogue.

Now imagine this: At 6 a.m., the boy woke his parents, who, weakened by fasting, tried to get him to dress in synagogue clothing. But the boy decided to wear summer clothes, despite it being a cold day, and he started screaming and kicking at any attempt to dress him appropriately, ignoring all attempts to explain the importance of the situation. The parents, tired and only desiring to go to the synagogue to pray, allow him to dress as he wants.

Let’s not even talk about the kippah — that is a war that was lost several years ago, since the boy does not tolerate putting anything on his head.

Once in the synagogue, all the children go to the playroom while the parents pray. But for this child, the small size of
the playroom, and the number of children there, make him feel confined and overwhelmed. The person assigned to take
care of the children in the playroom has many in their care, and therefore the boy easily “escapes” and heads to the
spacious sanctuary where the adults are praying. Dad and Mom take turns watching him, since the child runs freely between
the men’s and women’s sides.

A few days earlier, during Musaf on Rosh Hashanah, the boy decided to go into the synagogue’s garden, even though all the
children were inside in the playroom. Attempts to get him to come inside were met with screams and kicks. So, his father resigned himself and recited the Amidah from the doorway, with his attention divided between the prayer inside and the child outside. At some point, the mother, who was praying inside, noticed the situation and took her turn so that the father could be inside at least for the conclusion of the prayer.

The child in question has autism and attention deficit disorder. This is the reality that many parents of neurodivergent
children face. We constantly have to navigate the delicate balance between caring for our child’s needs and following our traditions and rituals, which in many cases are not compatible with the needs of a child on the spectrum.

Waiting until the end of a seder to eat, staying at the table through the kiddush, or simply answering “amen” are things that most parents take for granted; for parents of neurodivergent children, these can be great accomplishments — or completely impossible.

Fortunately for us, the Chabad of Squirrel Hill community, led by Rabbi Yisroel Altein and his family, has always opened its doors for us and has done everything in its power to accommodate the needs of our children. They have offered flexibility within the rigidity that sometimes characterizes our rituals and traditions. They provide understanding and support when they see us facing our tribulations, and we are very grateful for them.

But not everyone has the ability to make a family with neurodivergent children or adults feel welcome. The expectation of rigidity and solemnity in rituals makes it difficult for many communities to accommodate the behavior of a neurodivergent person; instead of offering support and encouragement, some communities expect a neurodivergent person to magically adapt to an environment they find oppressive and overwhelming.

Neurodivergent people and their families also have the right to live Judaism to the fullest. And if the Alteins have taught us anything, it is that Judaism is not a rigid board. You can always offer a little flexibility without anything breaking. PJC

Eduardo Schnadower was born in Mexico City and came to Pittsburgh in 2016 to work on his doctorate at Carnegie Mellon
University.

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