In the Talmud, a person who is both deaf and mute is called a cherish. For centuries, such individuals were grouped with minors and people with limited mental capacity, based on the historical belief that they lacked the maturity for full legal responsibility.

Additionally, yeridos ha’doros holds that each subsequent generation since Sinai is spiritually and intellectually inferior to the previous, becoming ever more removed from the spiritual summit reached at Mount Sinai.

Historically, those with intellectual disabilities were often sent away to residential homes, separated from their families—an unfortunate practice that still persists in some extreme Jewish communities, where individuals with intellectual disabilities and Down syndrome continue to be isolated.

In more mainstream communities, however, attitudes have evolved. People with different abilities are now welcomed and included, with nearly every school offering programs that integrate mainstream students with disabilities into the regular student body.

Despite this progress, living with a disability still presents significant challenges. In Abled: Living With A Disability, A Torah View (Mosaica Press), Michal Horowitz offers a touching memoir that provides personal insight into living with deafness.

Her hearing loss started in her late teens, and by her early twenties, she had lost all of her hearing. Horowitz has severe bilateral hearing loss, which is a permanent reduction of hearing in both ears, typically involving a loss of 71-90 dB, where speech is inaudible without hearing aids.

Ironically, she is an audiologist by training, but has found her calling in teaching Torah. She has over 2,000 shiurim on YU Torah and other sources.

Throughout the book, Horowitz recounts her journey, starting as just another Bais Yakov girl. Yet, as her hearing loss grew more significant, her life changed direction. Remarkably, she frames her experience of hearing loss as an opportunity to connect with Hashem, drawing on divine inspiration while facing a life-altering disease.

She describes how everyday challenges—such as hearing an alarm or following conversations at noisy gatherings—are significant obstacles for those with hearing loss, yet she faces them with deep faith.

A common reaction when meeting people with disabilities is to probe how they acquired their disability. She writes that she has faced intrusive remarks, invasive questions, and inappropriate jokes. While these individuals may have meant well, they should heed her mother’s advice when interacting with people with disabilities: “no questions, no comments.” Those who adopt this wise approach need not worry about violating the Bain Adam l’chavero of the other person.

She cites a disturbing experience of Rabbi Jack Abramowitz, an ambulatory wheelchair user, illustrating the need for sensitivity and adherence to the “no questions, no comments” principle.

Abramowitz recounts a neighbor who habitually makes thoughtless comments about his disability. Though not malicious, the man’s attempts at humor are seriously misguided. Abramowitz explained his discomfort, but the neighbor was unresponsive.

Once, Abramowitz was walking with his cane in the synagogue after getting out of his wheelchair. The fellow jokingly said, “Look, everyone, Jack can walk!”

Horowitz recounts the story to emphasize that insensitivity—even unintended—can be deeply damaging. Fortunately, such overt incidents are rare, but they exemplify our responsibility to treat people of all abilities with genuine consideration.

It’s unlikely that Horowitz ever thought she’d be an inspirational speaker and writer to thousands. But in this inspirational and stimulating book, she has done just that.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)