Memory and Ritual: Finding my Autistic Traits Reflected in our Sacred Text
by Lev DePaolo
As a late-diagnosed autistic person, I spent the first 30 years of my life unknowingly masking what I later came to recognize as autistic traits. I stim (move my body repetitively in ways that regulate my nervous system), I express myself with scripting and echolalia (repeated words and phrases), I hyperfocus and perseverate (pore over minute details for an extended period of time), and I have a strong orientation towards justice, coupled with a distrust of hierarchy. Before I had the language to name and understand these traits, I tried to suppress them out of shame and social pressure, but over the last seven years I have learned to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate them. The significance of the number seven in Judaism is not lost on me— seven days of creation, seven days of the week, seven years in the shmita cycle. On the seventh day of the week we rest, reflect, and practice gratitude; on the seventh year of the shmita cycle, we let our fields lie fallow and we are released from debts. As I enter my seventh year of living fully into my identity as an autistic person, I set myself this kavanah:
May I delight in my body that God has created; feet and hands that jump and flap and twirl for joy, my voice that praises God in song when speech falls short, my tongue that cherishes unusual words and tosses them out like stones on a lake, my eyes that seek out patterns and witness suffering, my heart that breaks a thousand times a day—for sorrow, for joy. God who created me in your image, keep my heart open, help me rejoice in your creation.
Before my diagnosis, I never would have been able to write this prayer. Now, as an openly autistic Jew, I find a deep well of affirmation in our sacred texts. In parashat Devarim and the parashiot that immediately precede it, we see that Judaism is profoundly rooted in ritual, memory, and social justice—three core elements of my autistic identity. Parshat Pinchas ends with instructions for how to observe Rosh Chodesh, Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur, grounding the Israelites in ritual as they prepare to begin their new lives, while Parshat Ma’asei contains a blueprint for how to construct a more just and equitable judicial system.
Parshat Devarim opens with Moses delivering an extended address to the Israelites in which he retells the story of their 40-years’ journey through the wilderness. The trajectory from Pinchas to Devarim teaches us that in times of transition and upheaval, ritual and storytelling ground us and remind us of who we are, while an equitable judicial system helps us uphold our values. Autistic neurology is often poorly-understood and we are often criticized for our moral “rigidity,” our tendency to embrace repetition, and our predilection for intense focus on details. However, the Torah teaches us that these three traits can in fact be powerful tools: a commitment to justice is essential for society to function; a preoccupation with details helps us hold onto our stories and transmit them to future generations; and ritual is a gift—a lifeline, a balm, a tool for community building and safety.
Parshat Devarim also lifts up the beauty of atypical modes of expression and reminds us that abilities are often fluid. At other times in his life, Moses struggled to express himself verbally, but in Parshat Devarim, he delivers a lengthy address to all of the Israelites. In autistic community, we use the term “spiky profile” to describe how abilities can ebb and flow dramatically. For example, on a day when my nervous system is well-regulated, I might be able to go to school, teach an adult education class, stop by the grocery store, and make small talk at a party. However, on another day when I am experiencing greater cognitive, emotional, or sensory demands, simply going to the grocery store might deplete my energy entirely. We also use “spiky profile” to describe the diversity of strengths and challenges between different autistic individuals. The Torah lifts Moses up as the example of strong leadership, teaching us that atypical expression is to be celebrated, and that abilities can ebb and flow.
A Midrash in Devarim Rabbah suggests that Moses’ encounter with Torah during his 40 days and 40 nights on Mount Sinai clarifies his speech and allows him to address the Israelites. One line reads, “See the language of the Torah, how dear it is, that it cures the tongue” (Devarim Rabbah, 1:1). On first reading, this line seems to imply that Moses’ atypical speech represents a deficit that needs to be cured. However, I would like to suggest an alternate reading: when Moses spends 40 days and 40 nights immersed in deep prayer and study, he is finally able to regulate his nervous system. Leading an entire people through the wilderness was necessary and a holy task, but one which took an enormous toll on his mind and body. Somehow, he needed to care for his exhausted mind and soul. This midrash teaches us that drawing close to Torah can be an act of profound self-care which can transform us—can give us the space to breathe and refresh our souls. Perhaps it can even allow us to share the sacred message inside each one of us which the world is waiting to hear.
Shabbat Shalom
Lev DePaolo (they/them) is an Autistic and Trans nonbinary musician, composer, prayer leader, and Jewish educator. They currently study at Reconstructionist Rabbinical College.
