What Does Yes Look Like?

Barry K, the wonderful guard of my school, says he feels like the Maytag man in our new building. His desk and the door used to be in the middle of traffic, but no more. The kids go out of their way to stop by and say hi and take one of a lollipop from the bowl that Barry restocks constantly from his private supply.

I was running from class to class today, more-so than usual and Barry asked me to stop by because he had something to give me. He was at services in his temple on Friday night and they had these pamphlets and he thought I'd like one. According to my friend Benjy it would be redundant to say that Barry is thoughtful. I like using thoughtful two ways. Lately I've grown fond of using words more than once with different meanings.

It's a polished looking, inspirational booklet called Jewels of Elul. To Whom It May Concern: this is not an Orthodox work. Some say that you should take wisdom where you find it... Who said that? You can find the book on line here.

Below is a piece that I found meaningful, it's pasted verbatim from the site. One paragraph in particular really hit me. May the author of the following essay, and all of us, be blessed with continued growth, in the most painless way possible.

The Road To “Yes”
By Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson

As someone who fell in love with God and Torah as a collegian, I dreamed I would have a child with whom I would share my newfound passion. At my rabbinical school, I would see professors and their children swaying together in prayer or over a text, and I would imagine the thrill of sharing that piety with my (as yet unborn) child.

When my wife, Elana, and I were told she was expecting twins, my heart and my fantasies soared. Yet, my beloved daughter, Shira, is not drawn to religious services. My son, Jacob, diagnosed with autism at age three, has difficulty speaking or turning the pages of a book. I had dreamed of a child who would love the Torah as I do, and who could share that love with me. God, it seemed, had denied my dream.

As Jacob prepared for his bar mitzvah, he mastered Facilitated Communication, an assisted typing technique that proved he had taught himself to read! Able to hear through walls, Jacob had achieved remarkable sophistication and depth by ruminating on the conversations of others.
Jacob and I began to learn together. We studied the weekly Torah portion and the prophetic readings. We studied the prayer book, and Jacob composed a soulful commentary. After his bar mitzvah, I committed to learn how to facilitate Jacob’s typing, which meant we could embark on further learning and have real conversations, too. Every Sabbath, Jacob and I sit in my study, and we discuss, and we learn - Torah, Heschel, Jewish history or philosophy. His comments continually lure me, and with the purity I see sparkling in his eyes, he reminds me to love God and Torah.

It turns out that it was not God who said “no” to my dreams. It was my rigid sense of what “yes” was supposed to look like that blinded me to God’s great, big, wonderful “YES” and almost blinded me to the miracle that is my son.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson is the Dean of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the American Jewish University. http://www.bradartson.com/