Changing Expectations is an Opportunity for Spiritual Growth
by Dylan Rothbein
In the Parshat “Vaetchanan,” we are met with an impossible situation to reconcile. Moses, who did so much for us leading us out of Egypt and serving as a mediator among our people and Hashem, leaves us with a devastating reality: after doing all these things, he is still not allowed to enter the Promised Land, even after he clearly earned the right to do so. Instead of wallowing in devastation, he gives one more speech to the Israelites where he sums up everything they did together and passes leadership to Joshua, who goes on to win the Battle of Jericho.
In the disabled community, this is a narrative we hear all too often. We often find ourselves, as disabled people, in a situation where we earned something like a degree or a skill at the end of the tunnel. We look at what was promised to us, just as Moses looked out on the Promised Land of Israel. Unfortunately, we look out on things like a job or a degree that we thought was in the cards for us but is no longer possible—much like how Moses thought he would enter after obeying God and His commandments. Unfortunately, this was never God’s plan after the role Moses played in the campaign in Numbers. Still, it feels unfair to Moses after all he did, especially where he contributed to a group of Israelites who were disillusioned with wandering the desert, where he could not keep the peace.
I think what the Torah is trying to teach us is that life is not always fair, nor does it always meet our expectations or the fact that we earned something. Sometimes, after you hit a wall or, as we say in the disability community, "ran out of spoons," it can feel like you let someone else down or let yourself down when something is no longer possible. Sometimes, as disabled people, we get trained for jobs we can’t actually do, so the question is: did we waste our time? Did a drummer waste his time learning to drum if he becomes a quadriplegic later in life who is unable to move his limbs? Or did a cinematographer waste her time learning her craft when she develops photosensitive epilepsy later in life? At this point, Moses did not look at things as half empty, but half full; he saw his legacy of courage build a nation, which is still something to celebrate even if he did not enter the Promised Land.
Something we know all too well in the disability community is that the body is fallible and our bodies use borrowed time. We often go to sleep in one body and wake up in another, which goes to show any day can change life dramatically—whether it be an accident or a rare genetic disease—and we need to be grateful for both experiences of being at our peak and at our lowest. We don’t know why God works in mysterious ways and why we can do something one day and not the next. But we know we are here to tell the tale, and God loves us because He knew what we were capable of; if He didn’t, He wouldn’t have given credence to our existence.
Look at a great example of what disabled people can accomplish: if Judy Heumann did not contract polio, would she have led us? We know her change of circumstance made her a role model in the disability rights movement. Heumann expected to just be a school teacher, but she had to break the glass ceiling for all of us due to ableism.
In our liturgy, there is a phrase, “from generation to generation,” so we look at the many generations Moses’s legacy affected. In the world of disability, there is nobody that embodies this more than the great Judy Heumann, who continued to lead until the very end of her life. Now, we in the disabled community must continue what she built for a more accessible world.
The Kabbalists teach us to “mend the world.” When Moses breaks the news that he will not enter the Promised Land, he goes to the people of Israel to deliver the news by going over everything they did and the new opportunities that lay ahead. Moses goes on to summarize the Torah up to that point and says that he wants them to remember his legacy so they can move forward together—or, as we say in the disability community, “Nothing About Us Without Us.”
The question now becomes: with changing expectations, can we live up to the legacy Moses imparted to us in the way we did before as disabled people, and do our contributions make us any less worthy of dignity? The answer to this question is absolutely yes: we can contribute, and yes, we have dignity. Every year with the High Holy Days, God lets us start over with the blessing of new beginnings. In the Book of Genesis, it says, “We are all made in the image of God,” and in the Mishneh Torah, the Rambam says, “We are all endowed by our Creator with equal and unalienable talents.”
Dylan Rothbein is a former selective mute, having spoken to almost no one for five years, and identifies as both Aspergers, dyslexic and physically disabled. Dylan was also diagnosed with male to female gender dysphoria. Dylan is a proud alumni of the residential treatment centers Andress Children's Center and Summit Nyack. Dylan has been playing guitar, and writing songs for many years. Dylan has a certificate in audio engineering and music production from Recording Connection Audio Institute and a certificate in writing, directing, and producing films from Film Connection Film Institute. Dylan has a History degree from SUNY Empire State college and an MBA in music business from SNHU. Dylan has been doing public speaking for years to raise acceptance of disability. Dylan is a Rabbinical student.
