Who Benefits More From Inclusion, the Boy with Autism or the Crowd, the Farmer or the City Dwellers?©
Who Benefits More From Inclusion, the Boy with Autism or the Crowd, the Farmer or the City Dwellers?©
by Rabbi David Baum
Ki Tavo 2015/5775
Jason
Mcelwain, a 5”6 tall kid, tried out for his high school’s JV
basketball team, but he didn't make it on the team; but rather than
quit, he stayed on as the team’s manager. Jason was diagnosed with
autism when he was 2 years old. He wasn’t sure in any part of his
life, but when it came to sports, he was at home; and even though he
couldn’t play, he was happy to be the team manager, and he moved up
from JV to Varsity. In his three years as manager, dressing up in a
suit and tie for every game, he missed only one game. He would get
water for the players, set up the equipment, and cheered the players
on with enthusiasm at every game.
Before
his last game as team manager, his coach gave him a uniform just like
the other players, and he wore it with great pride. To put on the
uniform and ride the bench was probably the high point in his life
until that point. But at the end of the game, with 4:19 left in the
game, the coach turned to Jason, J-Mac they called him, and put him
in the game. Something interesting happened in the crowd: his
fellow students, sensing that he might be put in the game, printed
pictures of his face and put them on their faces. He checks into the
game, and his first two shots were bricks, and his coach puts his
head in his hands – did I make a mistake? But then, something
amazing happened: on his third trip down the court, he shoots a
three, and he continued to shoot 5 more three pointers in a row –
scoring 20 points total, a team high for the game. When he hit his
last three pointer with three seconds left, the crowd rushed to the
court and carried him off like a champion.
The
truth is, we love these stories. We post them on our Facebook walls,
ESPN and 60 Minutes makes stories about them. “Boy with autism hits
home run”; “Intellectually challenged boy scores touchdown with
team’s help”.
Today,
I want to look at a very basic question – who benefits most from
these stories – us, or those seemingly lonely and overlooked souls
whom we give the ball to?
In
this week’s parashah, we read about an interesting character.
Chapter 26 of Ki Tavo outlines the procedure for how a farmer should
bring in his first fruits to the Temple in a ceremony called
Bikkurim.
The
Torah focuses on the farmer. The farmer must come to the Temple in a
far off future; the farmer must make a statement - the command to
recite liturgy as we see it in the Bible; the farmer must bring his
first fruits to the Temple; and the farmer must make a tithe
declaration – feeding the poor of society, the Levite, the
stranger, the orphan, and the widow.
The
question I wondered was, why is the farmer singled out to perform
this ritual?
As
we look at this story, we must look at the farmer him or herself.
The farmer, arguably, has the trade or profession that is probably
the most lonely. They work from dawn to dusk; they probably work
alone or only with their families, and they probably don't have time
to interact with neighbors, nor do they probably live near anyone.
Here
we see a commandment to let this farmer know, you are not alone.
First
– the farmer is forced to leave his/her comfort zone, his field,
and travel to the city, a place filled with people. They know that
they are part of a larger people in the present.
Second
– The farmer realizes he's not alone – there are other farmers
just like him! The mishnah in Bikkurim describes a scene where the
farmers all come together – they meet each other, they realize that
there are other farmers out there, and they go to Jerusalem together
with the charge, “קומו
ונעלה ציון אל בית ה׳ אלקינו!”
- Rise! Let's go UP to Zion, to the house of the Lord our God!”
Not only do they go, but they go UP, with a shared purpose. What
they do for a living isn't mundane at all, it's holy!
Third
– The farmer learns he's not alone in history.
When
he comes to the Temple with his first fruits, he must recite these
words word for word:
וְעָנִ֨יתָ
וְאָמַרְתָּ֜ לִפְנֵ֣י ׀ יְי אֱלֹקיךָ
אֲרַמִּי֙ אֹבֵ֣ד אָבִ֔י וַיֵּ֣רֶד
מִצְרַ֔יְמָה וַיָּ֥גָר שָׁ֖ם בִּמְתֵ֣י
מְעָ֑ט וַֽיְהִי־שָׁ֕ם לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל
עָצ֥וּם וָרָֽב׃
“My
father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager
numbers and sojourned there; but there he became a great and very
populous nation. 6The
Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy
labor upon us. 7We
cried to the Lord, the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our
plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. 8The
Lord freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and
awesome power, and by signs and portents. 9He
brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with
milk and honey. 10Wherefore
I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, O Lord, have
given me.”
They
see that they are not alone in history – their forefather was also
a nameless guy, a fugitive Aramean, a person from humble beginnings.
And they see that they were once slaves. They appreciate their
freedom, and how they got to this land flowing with milk and honey.
This
scene seems to be all about the farmer, but the Mishnah teaches us
something new – it might be more about us, the people in the city,
than the farmer.
The
Mishnah tells us that the population of the city sent out flutists
before they entered the city; the big wigs of Jerusalem would came
out to greet them first, then the artisans stood before them,
greeting them, “Our brothers from so and so, come in peace, Batem
L'Shalom!”
The
students at Greece Athena High School played the role of the flute
players. They welcomed Jason with cheers when he brought his first
fruits to the court, they showed him that they were his brothers and
sisters, that he was just like them, when they put the masks on with
his picture.
Jim
Johnson, the coach of the team, who has coached for 25 years said,
“I've never experienced that emotional high of what happened during
that game...It was just so special to me, that young man's dream came
true, and I was able to make that happen for him.”
So
my question is, who got more out of this ceremony? The lonely farmer
who finally realized he wasn't alone, or the people of the city, the
seemingly normal people, who welcomed in the lonely farmer?
Who
got more out of the story of Jason Mcelwain, J-Mac, the teenager with
autism who finally got his shot; or his classmates and coach, who
gave him a chance to shine?
There's
a famous mishnah in Pirkei Avot:
Pirkei
Avot 4:3:
הוא
היה אומר,
אל תהי בז
לכל אדם,
ואל תהי
מפליג לכל דבר,
שאין לך
אדם שאין לו שעה ואין לך דבר שאין לו מקום.
[Ben
Azai] would say: Do not disparage anyone, and do not shun any thing,
because every person has his or her own hour, and you should have no
thing which does not have a place.
The
story of the lonely farmer and the city, and the story of Jason
Mcelwain, and his coach and classmates, teach us about the beauty of
what it means to give someone a chance to shine, to give someone his
or her hour – that's it not just for that person, but it's for us
as well.
And
it's not just the basketball court that can be a place of inspiration
for a boy like Jason, his coaches and classmates, but this very room,
a beit knesset. Jacob Artson, the son of Rabbi Bradly Shavit Artson,
is an adult with severe autism; but he's a source of inspiration and
a rebbe to many, including his own father, the Dean of the Ziegler
School of Rabbinic Studies in Los Angeles. Jacob wrote: I think
that people vastly underestimate the importance of spirituality for
people with special needs...My body and emotions are very
disorganized, but the one time that my mind, body and emotions feel
totally connected and in harmony is when I pray. I have also learned
many important lessons from listening to my rabbis’ sermons because
we all need to live with meaning and know that we are not alone in
our struggles.” Jacob is a tireless advocate for inclusion of
those with special needs in synagogues, not as a mitzvah project, but
as equals. Rabbi Artson once told us what Jacob said to him once, “I
think the volunteers who spend time with me for their mitzvah
projects think they are helping me, but I think I'm actually the one
who is helping them more.”
As
we approach our new year, perhaps we can learn to give others a place
to shine, to show the beauty that they have within – and realize
that it's not such a selfless act – that we gain something
tremendous out of it – giving people a chance isn't charity –
it's one of those rare things in this world that we all strive for –
a win – win.
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