Researching Disability: Synagogue Accessibility in the Greater Toronto Area
Evelyn Lilith Finkler
A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Environmental Studies and the Faculty of Graduate Studies in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Magisteriate in Environmental Studies.
York University Toronto, Ontario, Canada
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Abstract
Synagogues today are centres of communal life for Jews of every denomination. Many are accessible to dis/abled persons only in a marginal way. Structural barriers prevent admission to many Jews who are physically dis/abled but attitudinal barriers also exclude those with invisible impairments. Focus group meetings and individual interviews with approximately forty-five people provided information about the current situation for dis/abled Jews living in a large Canadian city.
The author writes within a social model framework which views dis/ability as a sociological phenomenon and locates it within oppressive institutional structures. She critiques notions of tzedekah or charity which militate against the implementation of full human rights in synagogue environments. The author argues that while religious law may impact negatively on some aspects of synagogue architecture, it is modem day financial and social realities that limit accessibility to synagogue life. In particular, security concerns among Jews often lead to regressive changes within the built environment.
Building ramps, installing elevators and hiring American Sign Language interpreters will definitely improve accessibility to Jews with physical impairments or those who are
Deaf, deafened or hard of hearing. However, access to synagogue environments IV
must be viewed as an entitlement rather than cause for a fundraising initiative. It is only when the struggle of dis/abled Jews is understood in a human rights framework rather than one proposing tzedekah, that we will take our place within the Jewish community. Dedication
This thesis is dedicated to my sister, Sandra Finkler, and to the memory of my grandfather, the Radoszyce
Rebbe, Yisroel Yosef Finkler, z"l. VI
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Bev Altberg, Carol Altilia, Betty Alvarez, Madeline Bassnet, Sheila Block,
Janet Bruch, Helen & David Bullingham, Yukyung Kim Cho, Susan Chung,
Lisa Dennis, Francois Dionne, Gail & Marty Eisen, Tzvia Eisenberg, Paul Firmegan,
Rene Fitzgerald, Michaelanne George, Liette Gilbert, Gerry Gold, Sylvia Gon,
Itay & Hila Grynspan, Conine Hershkovits, Ted Isnor, Marilyn & Sidney Joseph, Maylin
Kanee, Lawrence Kaplan, Mona Krehm, Becky Lee, Ali Lennox, Reisie & David Lipton,
Martin Lockshin, Peggy McGrath, Janet Morrison, Karen Pearlston, Ellie Perkins,
Barbara Rahder, Geoff Reaume, Cathy Schwartz, Shlomit Segal, Mel Starkman, Pnina
Steiner, Miriam Stem, Sigal & Yakov Stevens, Vera Tarman, Howard Tewsley, John
Tulloch, Eran Tzin, Marianne Ubershar, Don Weitz and Rabbi Yossi Yarmush for their support as I wrote my thesis. It is because of all of them that I was able to complete this work. Each contributed to the strength of this writing. All errors and omissions are my own.
Perhaps most importantly, I wish to extend my appreciation to the anonymous members of the Jewish community who spent time with me and shared the details of their lives. It is their words and experiences that inform the body of this work. It is their spirit that carries me forward. Vll
Table of Contents
Abstract iv
Acknowledgements vi
Introduction 1
Chapter One
Dis/ability, Judaism and Urban Planning: A Review of the Relevant Literature 9
Chapter Two
Jewish Religious Law and Dis/ability 24
Chapter Three
The Synagogue as Architecture Reflecting Life 37
Chapter Four
"No Partnerships Before the Revolution?": The Importance of Dis/ability Centred
Research 66
Chapter Five
Researching Dis/ability: Synagogue Accessibility in the Greater Toronto Area 75
Chapter Six
Tzedekah, Tzedek and Tikkun 01am: Justice for Dis/abled Jews in the Synagogue 118
Afterword 136
Glossary 149
Bibiography 155 viii
List of Tables
Table 1: Physical Features in a Synagogue that Affect Accessibility to Dis/abled Jews; A
Review of Three Buildings Participating in this Study 58
Table 2: Denominational Affiliation of Research Participants 82
Table 3: Relationship of Participants to Dis/ability Issues 83 ix
List of Appendices
Appendix 1: Workshop Outhne 138
Appendix 2: Feedback Form 139
Appendix 3: Flip Chart Notes: Chayei Torah Focus Group 140
Appendix 4: Flip Chart Notes: Anshei Plotsk Focus Group 144 1
Introduction
This thesis focuses on synagogue accessibility' to dis/abled Jews. It analyzes the sacred built environment and some of the social forces which influence its development. Like many individuals involved in the dis/ability rights movement, I had initially emphasized aspects of physical access. My appreciation of the pervasive influence of antisemitism and the oppressive practices associated with various impairments developed later. I sought out such explanations in order to contextualize the reluctance of many synagogue congregations to accommodate dis/abled persons.
If synagogues wish to be accessible to persons with different impairments, universal design features can be applied. Changing the way in which sacred spaces are structured would enhance usage by all members of a congregation. Unlike barrier free design, spaces created with universal design principles in mind, are equally usable by everyone.
For example, a ramp can be used by wheelchair users to enter a premises. Able bodied individuals can use steps. However, a level surface would be equally usable by those with mobility impairments and those who move easily.
' Please note that italicized words appear in the glossary at the end of this thesis. 2
There are, however, many tensions within the Jewish community that impact upon the inclusion of dis/abled Jews. Ashkenazi, Sephardi and Mizrachi Jews all make their home in Toronto. Each cultural group maintains its own customs and linguistic heritage.
Usually, each subgroup forms its own congregation and prays in its own distinctive style.
While Ashkenazi Jews adhere to one of four denominational affiliations, many Sephardi and Mizrachi Jews identify themselves as "traditional".
Ashkenazi denominational affiliations also influence religious practices involving dis/abled persons. Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist Jews understand Judaism and its application to modem day life in varied and sometimes conflicting ways. For example. Orthodox Jews are stringent in their avoidance of any use of electricity on the Sabbath. Therefore, an electric wheelchair user would not be welcome in an Orthodox synagogue at Sabbath prayers. However, Reform Jews do not adhere to the above prohibition and, therefore, an electric wheelchair user could attend a
Reform synagogue.
Some might argue, therefore, that the solution to synagogue inaccessibility is simple.
Persons using electric wheelchairs should attend Reform congregations! However, our religious, linguistic and cultural heritage also determine our comfort level in particular milieux. As someone raised in a more traditionally observant home, for example, I had 3 great difficulty attending a Reform service. I was disturbed when I heard an organ playing and thought I had inadvertently entered a church! Furthermore, I am comfortable with the Sephardi style of prayer. Ashkenazi prayer using Yiddish pronunciation is difficult for me to follow. At Passover, Sephardi Jews eat rice and soy products, foods forbidden to Jews of European origin. Therefore, Askenazi observant Jews would not eat kiddush in a Sephardi or Mizrachi synagogue during the festive season.
While there is no dis/ability centred analysis of synagogues as sites of spatial struggle, geographers and planners note that urban design can result in dis/abling environments for those who must traverse their terrain (Dom and Metzel, 2001; Gleeson, 1999a; Butler and
Bowlby 1997; Dear et al., 1997; Imrie, 1996). Authors assert that dis/ability is not an individual impediment, but like gender, race and class, a social construction to be dismantled. The physical environment planned, created and maintained by the able- bodied population, reflects the needs of those who conceived it.
This analysis of dis/ability is referred to as the social model (Oliver, 1996a). It stands in contrast to the medical model, a fi-amework in which dis/abled persons are viewed through the lens of an able-bodied world, rendering us as those "afflicted with" and
"suffering from" (Michalko, 2002). This latter linguistic characterization locates the 4 social problem of dis/ability within the confines of our bodies and defines us by that which makes us different, negating our capacities, our sensibilities, our spirituality.
Often, dis/ability advocates demand integration and inclusion within able-bodied society.
These two words have distinct and perhaps contradictory meanings. Integration refers to the social conditions which promote dis/abled persons living in close proximity to able- bodied persons. For example, during the last century, many individuals with physical, psychological and developmental impairments were segregated in institutions in rural areas. Today, many of these same individuals reside in group homes or boarding homes on residential streets. Some claim, therefore, that dis/abled persons are now integrated within larger society. Others reply that small specialized facilities are merely mini- institutions. Dis/abled persons may be physically integrated with others who do not share their dis/ability status. However, they are still not included in the community. Being physically located in a neighbourhood does not necessarily translate into meaningful social relationships with able-bodied persons. Advocates today demand inclusion to indicate that dis/abled persons must be active participants engaged in and relating to able- bodied peers. Our physical presence is not enough.
This thesis also comments upon my relationship to my own invisible impairment.
Feminist scholars have criticized intellectual work in which creators of new knowledge(s) do not own their social and political location (Lynch, 1999; Sheilds and Dervin, 1993). 5
As a supporter of such philosophical approaches, I, nonetheless, felt uncomfortable
"coming out". I initially was reluctant to declare that my scholarly investigation was not merely a dispassionate theoretical enterprise. The credibility one derives as an objective investigator of intellectual truths is appealing. However, self respect originates in a willingness to be honest, to face the mirror fully.
During the Society for Disability Studies conference in June 2002,1 discussed synagogue accessibility with two Jewish wheelchair users. One person inquired why I was interested in dis/ability issues. At that moment, I felt both frightened and frustrated. I wished that my psychological struggles were evident. Of course, such a wish was only temporary!
Many psychiatric survivors do not have the privilege of passing as I do. Their limbs shake. Their stiff, awkward gait marks them as "crazy" as they dance the "thorazine shuffle." I fear that level of visibility and vulnerability. However, I also want to reach out, build connections to other dis/abled Jews. My invisibility as a psychiatric survivor means that such bonds are more difficult to establish.
I answered my fellow conference participants that I am a psychiatric survivor and that although my impairment is invisible, I identify strongly with the dis/ability rights movement. Later, I reflected that, as an adolescent and young adult, I endured many experiences commonly linked to physical dis/ability, including institutionalization, loss of control of my body, attempted educational segregation, living on social assistance in 6 public housing and intermittent, poorly paid employment. These struggles cumulatively delivered the message that my psychological difficulties diminish me as a human being.
An ableist society which glorifies physical prowess and mental stability rejects both persons with cerebral palsy and psychiatric survivors.
Description of Chapters
In Chapter One, I investigate the literature addressing the intersection of dis/ability and planning and the application of universal design principles to synagogue environments.
Material available in scholarly publications, local Jewish presses and on the internet are all considered.
In Chapter Two, I examine some biblical passages which refer to various impairments and link ancient text to current synagogue practices. This brief review suggests ways in which dis/abled Jews are perceived theologically and relates such perceptions to synagogue accessibility.
Chapter Three describes the essential components of synagogue architecture and considers the synagogue as a spiritual home for dis/abled Jews. This chapter also reviews the physical accessibility of synagogues I visited during the course of my research. 7
Finally, Chapter Three contemplates structural alterations that enhance accessibility to places of worship. Ideally, such suggestions will lead to change in the built environment.
Chapter Four describes aspects of dis/ability centred research. I argue that rationalist modes of inquiry and research "partnerships"^ are not conducive to the liberation of dis/abled persons.
Chapter Five describes my research undertaken in three synagogues in the Greater
Toronto Area. I briefly examine focus group interviews as a form of research methodology and conclude that there are both significant benefits as well as drawbacks.
Focus group results were recorded in a variety of ways including respondent feedback sheets, field notes and flip chart notes of group discussions.
Research outcomes validate the hypothesis set out in the introduction, hi fact, dis/abled
Jews are often excluded from aspects of synagogue life. The reasons for such exclusion, however, are not always related to religious beliefs. This chapter elaborates on the complex circumstances by which dis/abled Jews are prevented from entering the synagogue.
^ "Partnerships" in this context refers to able-bodied and dis/abled persons researching dis/ability issues together. 8
Chapter Six explains the notions of tzedek, tzedekah and tikkun olam, suggesting that a charity oriented perspective should be replaced by one that views dis/ability in the context of social justice. I argue that such a paradigmatic shift will successfully refi-ame the idea of dis/ability and alter oppressive attitudes.
Ideally, others involved in dis/ability and/or Jewish studies will be interested in furthering such inquiries. Given the limited nature of the research I conducted and the narrow scope of my research question, there is clearly much more to be done. The goals associated with increased attitudinal and physical accessibility to Jewish sacred spaces are multi-faceted.
They deserve the attention of dedicated researchers. 9
Chapter 1: Dis/ability, Judaism and Urban Planning: A Review of the Relevant
Literature
This chapter will review the literature addressing links between planning theory and dis/ability theory, Judaism and dis/ability and finally, synagogues and universal design.
Little has been written about these issues in connection with one another. Potential avenues of exploration are suggested in the context of this examination.
Dis/ability Theory
Until recently, '"'dis/ability'^ has been understood primarily within a ""'medical model" or
"charity model" context. This firamework views dis/ability as a difficulty located within an individual. The solution to the "problem" of dis/ability, according to this analysis, is prevention or cure. When neither solution is available, at least two other options exist. One can establish social service organizations such as the Reena Foundation^ or Chai Tikvah"* to assist people who are considered to have an ^Alternatively, like Robert Latimer
^ Social service organization serving developmentally dis/abled persons in the Greater Toronto Area. Social service organization serving Jewish psychiatric survivors in the Greater Toronto Area. ' Some persons may be viewed as "dis/abled" or "sick" by others while not viewing themselves in the same light. For example, psychiatric survivors often challenge biological interpretations of "mental illness." In addition, gay men, by virtue of their sexual orientation, are sometimes considered to have AIDS when they do not have the disease at all. 10
(Kaiser, 2000) and Peter Singer (Johnson, 2003), one can advocate "mercy killing" and alleviate the "suffering" of dis/abled persons by murder.
Among dis/ability studies scholars, however, the language used reflects an entirely different set of values and understandings. ''^Impairment" means a difficulty with physical, emotional or cognitive function. ''Dis/ability" in contrast, refers to the social and attitudinal barriers that people with impairments experience. For example, persons with a visual impairment are dis/abled by the emphasis on the printed word as a primary form of communication. This use of language, common in the United Kingdom, emphasizes the social model of dis/ability, articulating the belief that inaccessible environments create more obstacles than impairments themselves (Thomas, 2002; Barnes, 1998).
The social model of dis/ability originated in the field of sociology. It was dis/abled sociologists such as Michael Oliver and Colin Barnes that developed the intellectual foundations of dis/ability theory (Barnes, 1990; Oliver, 1990J. Disciplines such as history
(Longmore and Umansky, 2001), education (Linton, 1998), geography (Gleeson, 1999a) and linguistics (Corker and French, 1999) also include thinkers that incorporate dis/ability centred analyses. Nonetheless, each author, in turn, cites the social model of dis/ability as a reference point from which their own work emanates. 11
Because of its sociological origins, dis/ability theory has focused primarily on economic, rather than environmental, explanations of our oppression. While critiques have been written about the built environment as a source of oppression (Imrie, 1998 and 1996), scholars have not addressed planning theory or its intellectual underpirmings.
Dis/ability studies scholars have sometimes attributed ableism, the oppression of dis/abled persons, to their lack of participation in the labour market. Because dis/abled persons are not often engaged in "remunerative" forms of employment, it is argued, they are of little use to capitalist endeavours (Charlton, 2000; Hahn, 1997; Oliver, 1990).
Scholars such as Gleeson (1999a) suggest that the development of industrial capitahsm was responsible for the exacerbation of the oppression of dis/abled persons. A historical materialist, Gleeson views the feudal period as a time in which dis/abled persons made economic contributions within the home. When labour activity moved from the domestic sphere to the factory setting, dis/abled persons were not able to compete. Because wage labour was concentrated in urban areas, away from the locus of food production, dis/abled persons could also no longer contribute to agricultural subsistence efforts. The inability of dis/abled persons in urban settings to participate in the market economy translated into financial dependence upon family members. 12
Other scholars such as Snyder and Mitchell (2002) concur with the above analysis. They note that recognition of "feeblemindedness" and promotion of the eugenics movement grew as dis/abled persons arrived in the cities of the industrial age.
"As a new manufacturing-based economy reared its head, the slower, ritualized pace of the farm would begin to vanish and with it, the more flexible social standards. What characterized the feebleminded individual, in the rhetoric of eugenics, was his or her inability to keep up with and adapt to a rapidly changing environment." (Snyder and Mitchell, 2002, p. 90).
Oliver (1999) goes further and argues that capitalism itself created dis/ability;
"Social categories are produced by the economic and social forces of capitalism itself The forms in which they are produced are ultimately dependent upon their relationship to the economy. Hence, the category disability is produced in the particular form it appears by these very economic and social forces. Further, it is produced as an economic problem because of changes in the nature of work and the needs of the labour market within capitalism" (Oliver, 1999, p.2, emphasis in original).
Charlton (2000) also gives credence to a critical analysis of industrialization but views global capitalism as a greater threat. He argues that north/south formal funding arrangements reinforce charity model relationships. Unlike other dis/ability theorists, however, Charlton points out that socialist countries also oppress their dis/abled citizens .
Planning Theory
Plarming academics overlook dis/ability almost entirely. Scholars such as Sandercock
(2000 and 1998) and Milroy (2001), whose work focuses on "difference", do not consider dis/ability in their articles or books. Forester (1999), a theorist whose writings emphasize 13
"communicative action", does not meniiow American Sign Language (A.S.L.) , Braille or large print. In contrast, geographers offer numerous dis/ability oriented critiques of urban spaces (Butler and Parr, 1999; Gleeson, 1998; Imrie, 1996).
Unfortunately, however, many articles in the geographic literature emphasize the relationship that persons with impairments have to their local care giving institution
(Parr, 2000; Gleeson, 1999b; Philo, 1997; Radford and Park, 1993). Dis/ability, then, is viewed primarily, though not exclusively, through the eyes of able-bodied people.
Dis/abled persons are rendered invisible outside the institutional context in which they previously resided. Describing socio-spatial relations solely through institutionally based relationships reinforces dis/abled persons' roles as recipients of care rather than as independent agents resisting an oppressive society.
Interestingly, some material regarding space and dis/abihty is available in the field of landscape architecture. Cecilia Paine, for example, writes about therapeutic design and its impact on psychiatric facilities in the Toronto area (Paine, 1999). In addition, a number of landscape design theses address dis/ability (Hunter, 2000; Sachs, 1999; Cervantes,
1997). Unfortunately, they have not been published. At least one author comments on this phenomenon (Gleeson, 1999a). He suggests that perhaps a large number of works remain 14 unpublished because they are written by dis/abled students. Dis/abled students writing about dis/ability and design may ultimately occupy fewer tenure track positions in the academy and, therefore, have less access to publication.
Sadly, planning practitioners also fail to understand the importance of dis/ability issues.
New Urbanism, a design de rigueur among planners, reifies Victorian housing styles which highlight narrow porches and steep steps. Wheelchair users are not considered when such approaches are adopted. Although the Congress for New Urbanism (CNU) has endorsed disabled persons' demands for increased accessible housing in New Urbanist developments, some remain unconvinced. Andres Duany, architect and founding member of New Urbanism, expressed hesitation in adhering to a design that would welcome wheelchair users. In one article, Duany is quoted as saying;" If we lose building types to the new accessibility requirements, we lose the possibility of all but the most crude and diagrammatic urbanism" (Szold, 2002, p.14). On a more optimistic note, since the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA, 1990), some planning practitioners in the United States have written about dis/ability and design and encouraged compliance with the legislation's guidelines (Szold, 2002; Gidman, 1994; Minton, 1992).
However, often, even "progressive" plarmers ignore dis/abled people. A recent issue of the Planners Network Magazine focuses on transportation (Angotti, 2002). Not one 15 article mentions the struggle of wheelchair users to access public transit, although it is a prominent aspect of the dis/ability rights movement (Johnson and Shaw, 2001).
Furthermore, the video. Bus Riders Union, produced by the 'radical' organization of the same name, mentions only briefly the inaccessibility of transit in Los Angeles (Wexler,
2001).
Some planning related journals have focused special issues of their publications on dis/ability matters. World Transport Policy and Practice, an international progressive transportation planning journal, published seven scholarly articles in a special dis/ability issue in September, 2002. Only one, however, was written by a transportation planner!
Urban Studies, a British journal, published a special issue on the "barrier free city" in
February, 2001. Yet again, few if any, authors wrote from a planning perspective.
Perhaps, planning academics and urban designers ignore dis/ability because planning theory has yet to link its own intellectual foundations to that of dis/ability studies. For example, there are many critiques of class- and race-based residential housing segregation (Young, 1999). Yet few, if any, planning theorists analyse the impact on dis/abled persons of terms such as "single family residential" and "minimum separation distances." The latter phrase refers to the minimum number of yards required between group homes in a residential area in Ontario. Ostensibly, this requirement prevents an inordinate number of facilities for persons with impairments from concentrating in the 16 same vicinity. Precisely why, one wonders, should there be a limited number of persons with impairments living in a particular area?
The designation of "single family residential" neighbourhoods is also problematic. Many adults with impairments were separated from their parents in childhood. Often, there was limited contact between the family and their segregated son or daughter. For institutionalized individuals, leaving the place where they were raised and "returning" to the community, meant uprooting themselves yet again (Capponi, 1992). How would one understand "family" if one had grown up in a large building, surrounded only by those that shared similar physical or psychological characteristics? Could people in the next bed, the same ward, not become the "brothers" and "sisters" one had left behind? How do planners in some Ontario municipalities determine that a group home consisting of more than six dis/abled persons cannot locate in a "single family" residential neighbourhood?
Who decides who is "family" to whom?
Because planning theorists have not addressed dis/ability, there are many areas to explore. For example, one could analyze the lack of enforcement of municipal accessibility guidelines. One could account for the limited implementation of dis/ability related recommendations contained in numerous municipal documents. The City of
Toronto, as a case in point, has sponsored and adopted at least six reports in the last thirty 17 years! (City of Toronto Advisory Committee on Disability Issues, 2002; Holten, 2001;
City of Toronto Planning and Development Department, 1991; ARA Consultants, 1990;
City of Toronto Planning and Development, 1981; Mayor's Task Force Re; Disabled and
Elderly, 1973). Few recommendations have been implemented. One could also examine the utter neglect of dis/ability related heritage planning and policies. Any of these areas could be thoughtfully considered, although not one has yet been investigated in a scholarly fashion.
Of course, planning theorists should not only examine dis/ability specific issues. They should also incorporate a dis/ability perspective into a wide variety of plaiming issues.
While plaimers and geographers have examined Not In My Back Yard (NIMBY) phenomena, they have done so frequently within the ill-informed framework of
"hierarchies of acceptance" (Wilton, 2000; Takahashi and Dear, 1997). The scale of
"acceptable" dis/abilities, as viewed by able-bodied neighbours, offers legitimacy to oppressive attitudes and characterizes dis/abled persons solely as subjects of able bodied scrutiny. The perspectives of dis/abled persons themselves must be integrated into analyses of land use decision-making.
While some legal scholars have criticized Ontario's land use decision-making processes
(Chipman, 2002), there is little Canadian academic writing which addresses the specific exclusion of dis/abled persons. American legal theorists, in contrast, have argued that the 18 provisions of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) prohibit restrictive residential zoning practices (Kinnally, 1999).
Given the dearth of material in the literature, there is clearly a need to analyze planning theory and practice in a dis/ability studies context. An integrative consideration of the issues would locate dis/ability at the centre, rather than the margins, of progressive planning discourse.
Judaism and Dis/ability
The intersection of religion and dis/ability has been addressed on numerous occasions in recent years as theologians, dis/ability activists, academics and other interested parties contemplate the meaning that G-d offers to marginalized persons (Bakody, 1999;
Eiesland, 1994; Gaventa, 1993; Wolfe, 1993). While the majority of the investigative work has emanated from the Christian community, Jewish thinkers have also begun to address the issues from a critical perspective.
There is little in the current academic literature that links Judaism and dis/ability. Only two relatively recent publications stand out. Rabbi Judith Abrams wrote Judaism and
Disability in 1998. Rabbi Tzvi Marx published Disability in Jewish Law in 2002.
Although Abrams is Reform and Marx is Orthodox, both authors present material as it exists within traditional rabbinic sources and offer only a limited modem day critique. 19
While respecting halakha, Jewish religious law, is positive, the material appears out of context to the majority of Jews unfamiliar with traditional texts. The vocabularies used in both books are complex and often unwieldy, even for a reader such as myself with a
Hebrew day school education and a traditional Jewish background. References are frequently inaccessible, making it a challenging endeavour to trace responsa to their sources. Given the level of Hebrew and Talmudic education required to adequately understand the abovementioned publications, one can easily argue that there is little available in the English scholarly literature that addresses Judaism and dis/ability.
Most contemporary materials consist of first person narratives written by a person with an impairment or by one of their family members. In Silence for example, written by Ruth
Sidransky, tells the story of a deaf couple living in New York City in the 1930's and 40's.
The author, their daughter, describes in lyrical language life within and outside of the
Jewish community (Sidransky, 1990).
Other short first person narratives, such as "Orthodox Handicapable Chicken Soup", are contributions to anthologies (BenAvraham, 1985). In addition, there are numerous articles in the Jewish press about dis/abled persons and their exclusion and / or inclusion in Jewish society. Authors describe life cycle events, primarily bar/bat mitzvahs (Cohn, 1999; Pearl,
1999; Chabin, 1997; Forest, 1988), various social services (Speisman, 2002; Press, 2001;
Shupak, 2001; Itzkowitz, 2000; Kessler, 1999) and sometimes, issues pertaining to human 20 rights (Edelman, 2000; Kassman, 2000; Homstein and Rosenberg, 2000b). Little has been written about dis/abled Jews in synagogues.
As well as the materials mentioned in the literature review, I monitored print media for any coverage of dis/abled Jews. I scanned the Canadian Jewish News weekly and searched the web sites of the Toronto Star and Ethnic News Watch regularly. By entering eleven different key words, I was able to locate a variety of dis/ability related articles in the
Jewish press. On occasion, newspaper or journal articles addressed dis/abled Jews and cited inaccessible built environments (Fine, 1999; Black, 1992; Katz, 1991). Sadly, the overwhelming majority of abovementioned publications present dis/ability within a medical / charity model context, rather than embracing a social model framework. The implications of this type of analysis and its links to religious notions of tzedekah will be more closely examined in Chapter Six.
I had anticipated a greater number of books and articles discussing the links between the situation of dis/abled persons and Jews during the Holocaust. I was sadly disappointed.
There are a number of first person accounts of dis/abled persons who survived the war
(Dunai, 2002; Friedman, 1990; Lusseyran, 1963) despite the eugenics program implemented by the Nazis (Biesold, 1999; Burleigh, 1994, Lapon, 1986). While both Jews and dis/abled persons were victims of Hitler's genocidal policies, there is little in the
Holocaust literature linking the struggles of both groups or integrating an analysis of both 21
ableism and anti-semitism. Two notable exceptions exist. Ryan and Schuchman (2000)
wrote an article which analyses the circumstances of Deaf Jews during the Shoah. The
movie, Liebe Perla, chronicles the life of a Jewish woman of short stature who was a
victim of Mengele's experiments (Rozen, 2000). These two items stand out precisely
because so little is available. Nonetheless, the invisibility of dis/ability as a category of
investigation and analysis is apparent even within the arena of Holocaust Studies, one
place where the histories of the two communities intersect.
Synagogues and Universal Design
I could not locate even one English language article, let alone a book, addressing
universal design^ within synagogue environments. The National Organization on
Disability in Washington, D.C., has an "Accessible Congregations" campaign which
encourages faith based communities to increase physical and social accessibility. The
primary emphasis of the campaign appears to be on churches, although synagogues are
mentioned (National Organization on Disability, 2003).The Delia Landes Foundation
also provides information to churches regarding barrier free worship spaces (Delia
Landes Foundation, 2003).
a detailed description of universal design, see pages 55-56 of this document. 22
Perhaps there is Hmited information on places of worship because of the tension between organized religion and dis/ability activists. Many in the dis/ability rights movement disapprove of the notion of organized religion (Charlton, 2000). Dis/ability advocates often critique hierarchical relationships especially those based on traditional caregiving roles. However, the covenantal relationship between G-d and the Jewish people is the most basic element of our faith. The first few words of the 23"^ Psalm proclaim; "The
Lord is my shepherd", a very traditional and hierarchical caregiving relationship!
Articles regarding synagogues and dis/ability appeared in the mainstream Jewish press as early as 1977. Gorin (1977) spoke of integration and the need to alter physical space for senior citizens. The most moving piece I encountered described dis/abled and able-bodied
Jews in relationship. Written by Rabbi Alan Henkin twenty years ago, the article reviews biblical dictates regarding various impairments and challenges the Jewish community to alter its oppressive attitudes. Rabbi Henkin, unlike many other writers, neither places dis/abled persons on pedestals, nor expresses pity. Dis/abled Jews, he argues, can be any of us and we all make our contribution (Henkin, 1983).
There are many books published which discuss generic universal design features (Imrie,
2001; Preiser and Ostroff, 2001; Goldsmith, 2000). For those interested in developing built environments that welcome all persons, there is no lack of information and support.
In addition, there is at least one publication which reviews teaching strategies used to 23 impart universal design principles and practices within professional design schools
(Welch, 1995).
Conclusion
If there is a common thread sewn through the fabric of this chapter, it is the invisible thread of dis/ability. Dis/abled Jews live lives largely outside the scholarly literary realm.
Our issues are presented in a context that locates dis/ability within an individual body and negates the social and political influences shaping our identities.
Similarly, urban planners putatively create environments for all citizens. Nonetheless, dis/abled persons and their concerns remain largely invisible in the perspicuous plans of most designers. The most elementary architectural adjustments must be buttressed by legislation in order to ensure compliance. Incorporating substantive analyses of the profound impact of social exclusion extends beyond the "bricks and mortar" templates currently available to planning professionals. It is only when the category of "dis/ability" is added to the taxonomic triad of "gender, race and class" that dis/abled persons' perspectives will receive greater consideration. 24
Chapter Two
Jewish Religious Law and Dis/ability
In this chapter, I address some of the links between Jewish religious law, known as halakha, and the oppression of dis/abled persons in synagogue environments. There is no doubt that many factors impact upon synagogue accessibility. Religious law is only one influence among many. Nonetheless, it is necessary to explore the implications of halakha in order to appreciate some of the barriers to accessibility.
Traditional Jewish legal decision-making involves reading and interpreting three main sources. The most ancient source is the Bible which is comprised of the Torah, i.e. the five books of Moses, the books of the Prophets and other writings. The Talmud, a source of commentaries on biblical texts and oral traditions, was written by rabbis during the second to fifth centuries of the Common Era (C.E.). Religious scholars subsequently codified the halakha. Maimonides, a renowned physician and scholar, wrote the Mishneh
Torah which was intended as a summary of Jewish religious law. The third main source of halakhic guidance are the responsa, literally rabbinic responses to questions of contemporary concern. When an inquiry is made, learned scholars reflect upon relevant passages in the Bible and in the Talmud. Analyses of any given situation occur in the context of reflection upon, and interpretation of, sacred texts. Although 25
Orthodox responsa are generally written in Hebrew, Conservative and Reform as well as some Orthodox responsa are also available in English (CCAR, 2003; Haas, 1996; Finkel,
1990).
When considering issues pertaining to dis/ability in a synagogue context, one must incorporate a basic understanding of Jewish religious heritage. Some might argue that religious laws conceived two thousand years ago are not relevant to modem day practices. However, the Bible and its commentaries still guide the Jewish people today; the Torah in its entirety is the literary and spiritual foundation of Judaism. Orthodox,
Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist Jews adhere to biblical text to varying degrees. While rabbis might argue about interpretations of Torah, none dispute its centrality to Jewish religious life.
Conceptions of Dis/ability
A number of scholars have argued that dis/ability within Judaism is religiously constructed (Marx 2002; Abrams 1998; Rose 1997). Indeed, there are three distinct categories of people exempted from the obligations of religious observance within the traditional religious framework; shoteh, heresh and katan. Shoteh refers to those with a psychiatric impairment. Peti, a sub-category of shoteh, describes those who are 26 developmentally dis/abled. Heresh refers to Deaf persons who cannot hear and cannot speak. Katan refers to a minor, i.e. a child. Each of these categories have specific descriptions. Impairment can be viewed as a reason for exclusion and / or exemption from the requirements of Jewish law. Individuals who fit the above descriptions are more limited in their roles in religious life. For example, persons with psychiatric or developmental impairments are not counted in a minyan, the quorum needed to pray communally. They are considered shoteh and peti respectively, and consequently are exempt from regular prayer observance (Marx, 2002).
Impairment can also be viewed as a sign of divine retribution. It is not difficult to locate any number of verses in the Torah where impairment is considered punishment for spiritual transgressions. In Deuteronomy 28: 27-29,^ the people of Israel are cursed, warned that their behaviour will result in various skin ailments, madness and blindness.
In Zechariah 12:4,^ the prophet warns the people that disobeying the laws of Moses will result in blindness and madness. In yet other verses, the divine spirit mentions other impairments as punishment for a recalcitrant people. Anorexia (Psalms 107: 17-18^),
' "The Lord will strike you with the Egyptian inflammation, with hemorrhoids, boil-scars, and itch, from which you shall never recover. (28) The Lord will strike you with madness, blindness, and dismay. (29) You shall grope at noon as a blind man gropes in the dark." ^ " In that day-declares the Lord-1 will strike every horse with panic and its rider with madness." ^ "There were fools who suffered for their sinful way and for their iniquities. (18) All food was loathsome to them; they reached the gates of death." 27 depression (Deuteronomy, 28:65/° Isaiah 65: 12-14,'' Lamentations 3:65'^), panic attacks (Ezekiel 21:12'^) and tuberculosis (Leviticus 26:14-16'"' and Deuteronomy
28:22'^) are all mentioned specifically as punishments in biblical texts. Clearly, the correlations between sin and various impairments are presented in the Torah as being of divine origin.
In addition to the numerous references to impairment as punishment, there are also references to impairment made in more neutral contexts. For example, when G-d
approaches Moses in the burning bush and commands him to speak to Pharaoh, Moses describes his speech impediment and declines the responsibility. G-d replies; "Who gives man speech? Who makes him dumb or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord"'^
(Exodus 4:11). This rhetorical statement reinforces the idea that G-d is responsible for
"Yet even among those nations, you shall find no peace, nor shall your foot find a place to rest. The Lord will give you there an anguished heart and eyes that pine and a despondent spirit." " "Because when I called you, you did not answer. When I spoke, you would not listen. You did what I hold evil And chose what 1 do not want. (13) Assuredly, thus said the Lord G-d: My servants shall eat and you shall hunger; My servants shall drink and you shall thirst; My servants shall rejoice and you shall be shamed; My servants shall shout in gladness, And you shall cry out in anguish, Howling in heartbreak." "Give them anguish of heart. Your curse be upon them." "And when they ask you 'Why do you sigh?' answer, 'Because of the tidings that have come.'Every heart shall sink and all hands hang nerveless; every spirit shall grow faint and all knees turn to water because of the tidings that have come. It is approaching; it shall come to pass-declares the Lord G-d." "But if you do not obey Me and do not observe all my commandments, if you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant, I, in turn, will do this to you: I will wreak misery upon you-consumption and fever which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish." "The Lord will strike you with a consumption, fever and inflammation, with scorching heat and drought, with blight and mildew; they shall hound you until you perish." Indeed, in Midrash, we are told that Moses's speech was impaired by an angel of G-d. Pharoah's advisors warned him when Moses was a toddler that he might one day challenge his father's power. A test was 28 everything, including the presence or absence of impairment. In this remark, no specific value is attached to the existence of an impairment.
Other descriptions of dis/abled persons in Biblical text refer to impairments as
"blemishes" or "defects." These words, in fact, appear over sixty times in the Torah, primarily with regard to instructions about animal sacrifice and priestly purity. Numbers
29:8 instructs penitents to offer an animal sacrifice "without blemish". In fact, this phrase appears every time mention is made of a ritual offering, whether the animal is a kid, a ram or a calf (Leviticus 22:19^^, 9:2). The standards of perfection required of the priestly class were the same if not more stringent than the ones for animals. Leviticus
21:17-23 states clearly that a priest entering the temple must also be without a blemish or
"defect".
devised to determine whether there was a basis for such fears. A container of gold was placed on one side of the child and a container of hot coals on the other. The advisors suggested that if Moses reached for the former, he be killed, but if he reached for the latter, his life be spared. An angel guided Moses' hands to the hot coals which he brought to his lips and caused his speech difficulties as he grew older. "You shall present to the Lord a burnt offering of pleasing odor: one bull of the herd, one ram, seven yearling lambs; see that they are without blemish." 18 (17) "gpgajj jQ Aaron and his sons and to all the Israelite people and say to them: When any man of the house of Israel or of the strangers in Israel presents a burnt offering as his offering for any of the votive or any of the free will offerings that they offer to the Lord, (19) it must to be acceptable in your favour, be a male without blemish, from cattle to sheep or goats. You shall not offer any that has a defect for it will not be accepted in your favour." " "Speak to Aaron and say: No man of your offspring throughout the ages who has a defect shall be qualified to offer the food of his G-d. (18) No one at all who has a defect shall be qualified: no man who is blind or lame or has a limb too short or too long: (19) no man who has a broken leg or a broken arm; (20) or who is a hunchback or a dwarf, or who has a growth in his eye or has a boil-scar or scurvy or crushed testes (21). No man among the offspring of Aaron the priest who has a defect shall be qualified to offer the food of his G-d. (22) He may eat the food of his G-d, of the most holy as well as of the holy; (23) but he 29
Rabbi Judith Abrams, in her book Judaism and Disability (1998), spends almost an entire chapter describing "disabilities as metaphors for sinful Israel" (76). She argues that in rabbinic literature; "Israel, metaphorically represented as a person with disabilities, is the object of G-d's love and G-d's regret that such misfortunes come to Israel through her own sins" (79). Abrams draws on the words of Isaiah;
"He was despised, shunned by men, A man of suffering, familiar with disease. As one who hid his face from us. He was despised, we held him of no account. Yet, it was our sickness that he was bearing, Our suffering that he endured. We accoimted him plagued. Smitten and afflicted by G-d; But he was wounded because of our sins. Crushed because of our iniquities" (Isaiah, 53:3-53:5, cited p.77).
Abrams later points out that the Mishnah "portrays disabilities as part of the grand order of G-d's creation. In both cases (in the Mishnah), sin leads to disability in that faculty with which the sin was committed" (87-88). As one example, Abrams cites Samson who
"went after his eyes" i.e. he sought out Delilah, a prostitute who was visually pleasing.
Therefore, as a punishment, Samson was blinded.
Abrams also refers to a collection of stories in the midrash, Leviticus Rabbah. The sages discuss the connections between various sins and leprosy. They conclude that;
"haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked thoughts, feet that are swift to run to evil, a false witness and one who
shall not enter behind the curtain or come near the altar. For he has a defect. He shall not profane these places sacred to Me, for I the Lord have sanctified them." 30
sends discord among brethren" are all punished by leprosy (Leviticus Rabbah Metsorah 16:1 cited, p.94).
Application of Halakha to Modern Day Synagogue Practices
Given this literary legacy, punctuated by punitive measures, it is not surprising that dis/abled persons are stigmatized in the Jewish community (Marx, 2002; Evers, 2000;
Abrams, 1998; BenAvraham, 1985). If we believe that our impairments are a punishment, we are more likely to internalize blame for our current difficulties. It is doubtful that we will insist on our social and legal rights in synagogue environments. Perhaps this is one reason why no Jewish cross dis/ability organization yet exists. If others believe that our impairments are a punishment, we will not be supported when we demand accessible spaces. The ideological framework cormecting impairment to sin might explain why dis/abled persons in synagogues are viewed through the lens of tzedekah, charity, rather than through the lens of tzedek or justice. This particular firaming of the Jewish dis/ability experience will be discussed at greater length in Chapter Six.
Parents of children with impairments are also sometimes ashamed and afiraid of being judged (Parker, 2000; Blank, 1980). In at least six places in the Bible, the people of Israel are reminded that their children may suffer as a result of the parents' sins (Exodus 20:5;
Exodus 34:7; Leviticus 26:39; Numbers 14:18; Deuteronomy 5:9; Psalms, 109:14). In each verse, the language is almost exactly the same. G-d promises to "visit the iniquities 31 of the fathers upon the children and upon the children's children unto the third and the fourth generation." With a warning of that sort, it is not surprising to hear anecdotally that a number of Jewish parents institutionalized their dis/abled sons or daughters and, on occasion, even denied giving birth to them.
There are other places in the Bible where these verses are seemingly contradicted by others. "Parents shall not be put to death for children nor children put to death for parents: a person shall be put to death only for his own crime"(Deuteronomy, 24:16).
Similarly, Jeremiah states; "In those days, they shall no longer say; 'Parents have eaten sour grapes and children's teeth are blunted.' But everyone shall die for their own sins; whosoever eats sour grapes, his teeth shall be blunted" (31:29).
In reviewing these two sets of apparently conflicting verses, Rashi explains that children of sinners will only be punished for their parents' sins if they continue their sinful ways.
If they are righteous, there will be no punishment. However, if children do not observe the commandments, they will be punished doubly, suffering for their own sins as well as those of their parents.
Because of the belief that every letter in the Torah is significant, we must understand from the above, that, at minimum, there is ambivalence about the notion of punishment of one person when their relative commits a sin. In stark contrast, however, there are no 32 verses in Torah stating that impairments of any sort are NOT a punishment. The verses quoted above stand uncontradicted, hi the absence of any such expressed Bibhcal ambivalence, we can only surmise that those of us with impairments mentioned in the
Torah ARE being punished.
Some people argue that the abovementioned passages regarding dis/abled people must be viewed in their social and historical context. The original laws were written in antiquity when other societies treated dis/abled persons in the same or in worse ways than did the
Jews (Gracer, 2003). Indeed, Greeks and Romans murdered children with physical impairments at birth (Covey, 1998). hi Sparta, infants were inspected by committees to determine if they had any impairments (Paulson, 1987). hi Judaism, human life was considered sacred and, therefore, children with physical impairments were allowed to survive (Gracer, 2003).
Contextualizing Biblical passages, however, is a retrospective analysis of religious dictates. Such efforts view statements only as symbolic of past values and perspectives. It is an inadequate response to religious laws that are still disturbing. Unfortunately, halakhic dictates regarding dis/abled persons,written in antiquity, are still being implemented today by observant Jews. For example, certain impairments exempt persons from the observance of specific mitzvot, the religious obligations of an able bodied Jew (Marx, 2002; Evers,
2000; Abrams, 1998; Rose, 1997). Blind people cannot read the weekly Torah portion in 33 front of a congregation as they do not hterally "see" the words (Toiv, 1997). They are still sometimes refused admission to synagogue sanctuaries when accompanied by a guide dog.
People deemed shoteh are not expected to pray regularly and are not counted as part of a minyan (Marx, 2002).
In addition, a blemish or defect raises questions about the appropriateness of a dis/abled individual as a religious leader. For example. Rabbi Jacob Emden (1697-1776) asserts that the aesthetics of a rabbi with a visible impairment leading prayer in a synagogue "may mar the ceremonial majesty of the occasion" (Marx, 2002, p. 174). In contrast, however. Rabbi
Meir of Rothenberg (1799-1866) states that a physically dis/abled man can serve as cantor.
"It is better if the reader is deformed. G-d is not like a king of flesh and blood who uses whole vessels and throws away those that are broken" (Marx, 2002, p.16).
Orthodox Judaism argues that we cannot challenge halakha. However, very sophisticated ways have been developed to circumvent certain religious strictures. The eruv, which extends public space into a surrounding community and permits people to venture outside on Sabbath and holy days, is one example. A Sabbath elevator, which stops on every floor, allows observant Jews to live in apartment buildings. Timers, which automatically turn lights on and off, permit use of electrical lights on the Sabbath (Dundes, 2002). 34
If we, as a community, have developed ingenious methods to address issues pertaining to
Sabbath observance, certainly we have the resources to address laws which effectively limit the participation of dis/abled persons. For example, orthodox synagogue administrators argue that automatic doors are not permissible because their installation would require the use of electricity on the Sabbath. However, as described above, observant Jews have managed to circumvent many such restrictions. Surely we can find a way to ensure that the use of automatic doors will not violate the Sabbath!
We can also easily argue that conceptions of various impairments have evolved over the millennia. We may not be entirely clear which diseases the Bible describes in various passages. In fact, in the Jewish Publication Society edition of the Bible (1999), a footnote addressing impairments such as "consumption, fever and inflammation" (Deuteronomy,
28:22), states clearly that the "exact nature of these afflictions (is) uncertain." In addition, descriptions of impairments may use the same words but may not refer to the same thing.
For example, tzaraat in the Bible is translated as leprosy. However, some people argue that tzaraat and leprosy are not the same disease. There are inconsistent descriptions.
Therefore, it is difficult to assess the exact nature of the skin ailment (Covey, 1998). If this is true for leprosy, now referred to as Hansen's disease, is it not possible that we misunderstand or misinterpret the descriptions of other impairments as well? 35
Rabbi Moshe Feinstein argues, for example, that the halakhic category of heresh, which designates deaf and mute persons as not obligated to observe religious precepts, is unnecessarily rigid. Feinstein suggests that we create a new category that would incorporate modem day Deaf Jews and more accurately reflect their realities (Marx, 2002).
For the Future
Rabbis writing responsa should be more sensitive when they receive impairment related questions requiring adjudication. The rabbi can judge stringently, requiring strict adherence to the law. Alternatively, the rabbi can judge leniently, offering flexibility to those who require it. hi considering matters pertaining to dis/ability, rabbis should consider maximizing accessibility within the confines of halakha. For example, rabbis were asked whether blind people can bring their guide dog into a synagogue. Rabbi
Moshe Feinstein states that blind people are permitted to bring their guide dog to the synagogue (Rosner, 2001). The Chelkat Yaakov, another rabbi, disagrees and prohibits admission of a guide dog. Finally, the Debreciner Rabbi suggests, as a compromise, that a guide dog be left in the corridor, rather than being brought into the synagogue proper
(Toiv, 1997). 36
The latter position does not acknowledge that a guide dog is the equivalent of a sighted person's eyes. Just as a sighted person would not be expected to blindfold themselves or leave their glasses in the hallway, so too it is unjust to ask that a blind person leave their guide dog outside the main sanctuary, hi this situation, the ruling made by Rabbi
Feinstein provides the greatest degree of accessibility for blind people.
In conclusion, the Jewish community should reconceptualize the meaning of various impairments. Necessary accommodations should also be contemplated. If we do not count in a minyan, may interfere with aesthetics, cannot use the most elementary physical aids in the synagogue proper and are interpreted as representing punishment for sins, it is no wonder that dis/abled Jews feel unwelcome in places of prayer. 37
Chapter 3: The Synagogue as Architecture Reflecting Life
In this chapter, I will consider the history of the synagogue and the ways in which social conditions influenced its built form. A description of the essential elements of sacred synagogue space will also be included. In the context of architectural theory, I will briefly analyze the relationship of the designer to the synagogue they aspire to create. I will conclude the chapter by reviewing physical aspects of three synagogues I visited as part of my research and examine levels of accessibility to dis/abled persons. Finally, I will describe universal design principles and apply them to synagogue spaces.
History of the Synagogue
In Hebrew, a synagogue can be referred to in three different ways. Beit Midrash, literally,
"house of learning", emphasizes Jewish education. Beit Tefilah, or "house of prayer" refers to Jewish worship. Finally, Beit Knesset, literally, "house of assembly", speaks to the communal aspects of Jewish life. This last term is the one most frequently used today. Its words make no reference to prayer. 38
In Exodus, G-d instructs the people of Israel to build a structure; "Make me a sanctuary
that I may dwell among them" (25:8). Some commentators ask; "Why does the Torah say
'among them'. Is G-d not everywhere?" In one of many replies to this question. Rabbi
Simon bar Yohai comments;"When is an acceptable time for prayer? When the
congregation prays." Rabbi Nattan says; "G-d does not despise the prayers of the
multitudes" (Tractate Berakhot, 7b-8a). From these comments, we leam that when we
pray as a congregation, our prayers are stronger. We are praying for each other, not just
for ourselves. We also leam that the emphasis in synagogue is not on the physical
structure but on the community of people residing within it (Golinkin, 2003). The
synagogue clearly is not simply a place of worship but a community centre, a gathering
place (Kaufman, 1999).
Wandering Jews designed sacred spaces in which to worship and gather with their co religionists. Often negotiating the uneven emotional terrain inhabited by both virulent anti- semitism and an unwavering faith, Jews established a presence in hostile environments. The synagogue also demonstrated their commitment to members of their own community. In pre-World War Two Poland, unresolved disputes were sometimes announced from the bima
(Eliach, 1997). Synagogues also were the focus of conflicting ideas about the ways in which
Judaism should be reflected spatially. While some Jews wished their synagogue's design to articulate an assimilationist or Reform agenda, others vigorously opposed such a move 39
(Speisman, 1979). Finally, a synagogue's design could express elation at the emancipation
of their members from the ghettos, from the hidden spaces to which they had previously
been assigned (Lemer 2000; Krinsky 1985; Eban 1984).
Location of the Synagogue
Until the mid 19"^ century, Jews often lived in restricted physical and social spaces. As
early as 1222, Jewish quarters had been established in different European cities. Oxford
was only the first of many such municipalities to forcibly confine Jews to specific areas.
Buda (1279), Rhodes (1310), Barcelona (1350), Turin (1400), Frankfurt (1460), and
Vienna (1570) among many other cities, all followed suit. Jews in these areas who moved
out of the specified zones were subject to legal penalties (Eban, 1984).
In 1515, the Italian word "ghetto" referred to a local foundry in the city of Venice
(Grossman, 1979). Because of its association with Jews, a stigmatized and marginalized population, the word acquired a negative connotation. By 1555, the word was generally understood to refer to a specific area where Jews were forced to live (Wigoder, 1986). While the word "ghetto" was used primarily in Europe, the experience of segregated Jewish spaces 40
certainly existed in other parts of the world. The "haras" in Libya and the "mellas" of
Morocco were also walled Jewish enclaves (Eban 1984; Goldberg 1980; Pinkerfeld, 1974).
In both European and North African locations, synagogues were often built close to or abutting ghetto walls. Ghettos themselves were built beside town walls. If invaders attacked a town's inhabitants, Jews would be the first targets (Wigoder 1986; Pinkerfeld 1974). In some European locations, synagogues were built specifically as fortresses. Designed and fortified by Christian leaders to protect their own people, the synagogues also provided both spiritual sustenance and physical security for Jews in the area (Meek 1995; Wigodor 1986; de Breffhy 1978).
Synagogue location was also influenced by the relationships that Jews had with a host government. For example, Jews were often required by law to build their place of worship in inconspicuous locations (Jamilly 1996; Wigoder 1986; Krinsky, 1985). The Bevis Marks, a modest synagogue in London, was built in 1701 in a laneway so that it would not be visible from the street (Jamilly, 1996). In contrast, the Great Synagogue of London, built almost a century later, was somewhat grander and took pains to distinguish itself architecturally, not only from local churches but also from the Sephardi Jews of Bevis Marks (Krinsky, 1996). 41
In Venice, in the late 1600's, five synagogues were located in a six storey apartment complex so as to conceal the building's use from outsiders. However, by the mid 1800's,
Jews in Italy celebrated their formal emancipation. In Turin, their transition from oppressed minority to liberated population was expressed by the tall tower of the Mole Antonelliana, a synagogue built during the 1860's (Lemer 2000; Meek, 1995). The building, whose image still graces the local skyline, now houses the National Museum of Cinema.
Locations of synagogues, therefore, were important statements as they paralleled the social location of Jews within a particular society. Synagogues in separate spaces, outside of city limits, indicated a marginality of both the people and the place. Synagogues, on the other hand, on main streets, at visible intersections indicated that the emancipation of Jews from the ghetto was near. As synagogues were tolerated or even welcomed in the public purview, so too were their congregants.
Synagogue Architecture
The arrangement of many ritual objects within a place of worship is determined by rabbinic dicta found in the Talmud (Fine, 1996). Some instructions originate in Biblical writings. A verse in the book of Daniel (6:10) states, "Daniel went into his house; and his windows were 42
open in his chamber toward Jerusalem and he kneeled upon his knees three times a day and prayed." The sages extrapolated from this verse that there must be windows in the synagogue. Ideally, the rabbis recommended, there ought to be twelve windows representing the twelve tribes of Israel. At least one of these windows needed to face Jerusalem
(Wigoder, 1986). There were synagogues that seemed to have no windows at all or very small apertures at great height (Krinsky, 1985). Often, there were also bars on the windows.
Perhaps these were installed to discourage intruders (Wigoder, 1986).
Until the late 19"' century, there were generally rules determining that the height of a synagogue could not be greater than that of a surrounding church or mosque (Halsall 1996;
Krinsky, 1985; Wigoder, 1986). Often, the building was designed such that the sanctuary extended from the basement level to the second floor. In this way, the designer was able to achieve impressive interior stature without violating government height restrictions
(Wigoder, 1986).
The architecture of a particular synagogue depended on the financial means and desires of its congregation. If members wished to be inconspicuous and blend in with the surrounding population, they chose designs which did not distinguish their use to outsiders. Structural references to Protestant or Catholic themes, such as using a cross pattern or having windows in groups of three, were an unwritten message. Jewish worshippers may have had a different 43
G-d, but it was the name alone that stood between the two communities. For example, in
19'^ century Canada, Jews in small towns wanted to "fit in". Their synagogues, consequently, were unadorned gothic structures, which often appeared much like neighbouring churches. Unless one examined the buildings closely and noted small Stars of
David, one could not tell the difference (Levitt et al., 1985).
If, on the other hand, the congregation wished to emphasize its sense of apart-ness from local citizens, the worshippers chose architectural designs that were otherwise alien to the area. Sh'arei Tefillah, a synagogue built in New York City in 1847, was designed in a
Romanesque Revival style which apparently was considered a reflection of Judaism's
"oriental" origins (de Breffhy, 1978). The horseshoe arches, a prominent feature of many such buildings, evoked the Moorish period in Jewish history and instilled pride in both congregants and officiants (de Breffhy, 1978).
Finally, like the Italian Jews of Turin, a number of German congregations insisted on an opulent Moorish style in order to illustrate their full emancipation in Christian society. The
Oranienburgerstrasse, built in Berlin in 1866, was the largest synagogue of its time. It was built both to serve the ever increasing community of Jews living in the city and as a tribute to the civil rights that Jews had acquired. Finally, Jews were permitted to build within the city. Their place of worship could not only be visible to the street. Remarkably, it could face 44 the street. Architectural historian Carol Herselle Krinsky comments on the ambiguities of the synagogue's design:
" This was one of the first synagogues to have an externally conspicuous cupola. The fact that the cupola was bulbous and gilded shows that the leaders of Berlin Jewry wanted their building to make a strong impact on the cityscape as if to proclaim their newly won rights. Ironically, the gleaming dome.. .gave some observers the idea that Jews were exotic and never to be considered entirely German. For Jews, elsewhere, however, the Oranienburgerstrasse synagogue symbolized improved status." (Krinsky, 1985, p. 265).
The Oranienburgerstrasse, built in a period of optimism, was burnt by the Nazis in
1938 during Kristallnacht.
Social Conditions Facing Jews
Until the mid 1880's, Jews were not permitted to practice as architects in most parts of the world (Wigoder, 1986). There were also regulations that frequently restricted admission to associated guilds such as carpentry and masonry (Epstein, 1996; Krinsky, 1996).
In addition, there were no guarantees that Jews could remain permanently in any country.
Jews were expelled from France in 1182, from England in 1290, from Spain in 1492 and from Portugal in 1497. Because of this instability, it made little sense to invest capital in a 45
physical structure. It was only during the Enlightenment period in Germany, that Jews finally felt settled enough to build elaborately designed places of worship (Krinsky, 1985).
Jews do not require a building to commune with G-d. All that is needed is a minyan, ten
Jewish people praying together. Unlike some other faiths, Judaism emphasizes communal, rather than individual, sacred acts. Perhaps because of this group orientation, the emphasis on the synagogue was less than it might have been otherwise.
Although the synagogue currently plays a crucial role in religious observance, its permanence as a centre of Jewish ritual and study is relatively recent. The holy ark containing the Torah was mobile for centuries, hi ancient synagogues in Palestine and Syria, the ark was portrayed as a box on wheels, easily transported (Fine, 1996). In fact, the apse which contained the holy ark and appeared as a projection in the eastern wall, was not noted in synagogues until some time in the 12^^ or 13'^ century (Krinsky, 1985). Clearly, then, even when Jews did settle permanently and built places of worship, the holy ark itself was not constructed as a part of the building. It remained separate and could be moved if necessary. 46
Even when Jews were permitted to reside in certain countries or districts, there were no guarantees that they would remain undisturbed. Pogroms resulted in deaths and upheavals for many communities. Between 1881 and 1905, thousands of Jews were slaughtered in
"progressive" cities in Russia and elsewhere in Eastern Europe. Businesses, homes and synagogues were looted or destroyed. As a result, large scale immigration began to both
Western Europe and North America (Sanders, 1988). Nor was this sort of insecurity limited to the European continent. When Muslims in Libya felt economically threatened by Jewish merchants in their vicinity, they burned down local synagogues knowing that without the building, Jews would not remain (Goldberg, 1980).
Religious Observance
While Sephardi and Mizrachi Jews generally conform to traditional levels of observance,
Ashkenazi Jews participate in four distinct movements, each with their own rabbis, schools, and synagogues. In each movement, adherents conform to different levels of religious observance. Orthodox Jews observe all traditional religious laws. Conservative, Reform and
Reconstructionist Jews, on the other hand, adapt ancient traditions to modem life in varying degrees (Fishbane, 1987). 47
Of course, customs of worship vary depending on specific location. In India, for example,
Jews remove their shoes before entering the synagogue. This is in keeping with the Hindu
majority custom (Wigoder, 1986). In St. Thomas, in the Caribbean, sand covers the
synagogue floor (Selwyn, 1998). This practice likely harkens back to the Conversos,
hidden Jews, who would have had to muffle the sound of their prayers (Wigoder, 1986).
In Trondheim, in Northern Norway, Jews do not adhere to traditional times for Sabbath
observance based on sunrise and sunset. Instead, they acclimatize themselves to the very
long days and nights associated with their proximity to the North Pole ^'^(Paltiel, 2001).
It is evident from the above that Jews often voluntarily adapt to circumstances and local custom. Given the history of suffering associated with experiences of difference, it is not entirely surprising that Jews are willing to accorrmiodate. However, it is also clear that the very same legacy of suffering has been transmuted into a source of pride in our survival.
Inside the Synagogue
Synagogue architecture and design are based on the layout of the ancient temple built by
King Solomon in Jerusalem. Although the second temple, built by King Herod, was
Sabbath observance begins Friday night at sundown and ends Saturday night at sundown. Jews living in places such as Trondheim, Norway or Rejkavik, Iceland have difficulty observing the Sabbath. Because of their proximity to the North Pole, they have no sunset in either summer or winter. 48
destroyed by the Romans in 70 C.E., its last remaining wall stands as a testament to early
Judaism (Schifftnan, 1996). Despite two thousand years' dispersion, the synagogue remains a remarkably similar edifice throughout the world. Although there are many models and cultural and political influences in the design of synagogues, there are also a number of essential elements commonly found in any building, whatever its location or denomination.
First, there is the holy ark, often ornate in its appearance, which contains the Torah scrolls.
The ark is typically located in an apse set into the eastern wall, facing Jerusalem. Second, there is the bima, or reader's platform, from which the rabbi and members of the congregation read the Torah. The location of these two elements varies depending on the denomination, the ethnic and racial heritage of the particular Jewish community and the time period during which the synagogue was built.
In the ancient period, the ark and the bima were located at opposite ends of the building. In medieval times, the bima was moved towards the middle of the synagogue, among members of the congregation. More recently, in North America, the bima has moved again. Now, the ark and the bima are often both up at the front of the sanctuary, facing the congregation. The
Torah, which was once read among its people, now resides a distance away. Because of custom, rather than law, the ark and the bima are elevated. Access is negotiated via four or 49
five steps (Wigoder, 1986). This elevation when approaching sacred space ensures that we
are closer to the divine presence as we pray.
Near the holy ark is the ner tamid or eternal light, symbol of G-d's presence. The ner tamid can be a candlelabrum, oil lamp or today, some form of electrical light. Typically, in North
Africa, the ner tamid was placed in some sort of ornamental lamp. Artists often developed elaborate containers in which to hold the ner tamid. These holders evoked spiritual sensitivities by incorporating religious symbols. In Morocco, for example, the ner tamid was surrounded by images of the hamsa. The hamsa, or "five" in Arabic, is a symbol of the hand of G-d. It sometimes had space for a piece of mirror or highly polished metal. Congregants believed that if someone cursed the synagogue with the evil eye, the mirror would reflect the curse back to its originator. In using the hamsa, local custom and belief blended with religious ritual and observance (Pinkerfeld, 1974).
In Orthodox congregations, there is also a wall or gallery separating men fi-om women. The separating wall, or mehitza, as it is known, was apparently not present in ancient times. 50
leading some historians to conclude that the spatial division between men and women was a medieval adjustment to synagogue architecture^' (Fine 1996; Wigoder 1986). In buildings both in North Africa and in Europe, women's galleries were additions to original 15"^ and
16^^ century structures. In later years, synagogues were built with upper decks or tiers so that women could look down and view the religious rituals without attracting the attention of men (Wigoder 1986; Krinsky 1985; Pinkerfeld 1974).
In addition, there is usually a sink equipped with a double handed large size mug. This mug is used to wash one's hands ritually on a number of occasions. Because one cannot pray in the bathroom, these hand washing areas are usually found close to the entrance to the sanctuary or just outside rest room facilities (Levitt et al, 1985).
On every doorpost in the building, a mezuzah is located in the upper third of the doorpost on the right side. This long narrow container holds two important prayers. In addition, the majority of synagogues have a genizah, a storage space set aside for old Torah scrolls and prayer books. These items cannot easily be disposed of since they contain the name of G-d.
At least one scholar argues that there was a mehitza in ancient times, but that because it was made of fabric, it was not easily preserved (personal correspondence, Professor Maim, Jewish Theological Seminary.) 51
In many cases, the genizah is near a cemetery, although it does not have to be (Wigoder,
1986; Pinkerfeld, 1974).
Synagogues, as well as many Jewish buildings, have "pushkes", little cans or boxes to be filled with coins that are sent as tzedekah or charity. One typically donates funds at a celebration or before Sabbath. Finally, some larger synagogues contain a mikveh, or ritual bath, a library, facilities for a day care or school and a community hall for meetings or lectures.
Many of the fixtures that make synagogues sacred space are also present in the homes of observant Jews. Mezuzot are on all the doorposts. Candles are lit on the eve of Sabbath, at the end of Sabbath, on the eve of holy days and on Hannukah. There are usually many pushkes waiting to be filled. The double handed mug is used each day to wash one's hands.
There are separate utensils, cutlery, etc for meat and for dairy.
Because symbols associated with synagogue ritual are also present in people's homes, notions of sacred space differ for those Jews who are religiously observant and those who are not. Observant Jews perceive the home, like the synagogue, to be a sacred space. Non- observant Jews, on the other hand, do not likely concur. They perceive the synagogue alone 52
to be the centre of Jewish spirituahty as religious rituals are performed primarily within that setting.
Sacred and Profane
Throughout history, Jews have lived in separate spaces both by force and by choice.
Although there are no walls, the Jewish "ghetto" in Toronto is located along Bathurst Street.
The Orthodox community begins near Lawrence Avenue and moves north into Thomhill
(Diamond, 2000). Conservative and Reform Jews live farther south, on the portion of
Bathurst extending north of St. Clair to Glencaim. While most historians have been critical of the segregation enforced by unfriendly governments (Krinsky 1985; Eban, 1984), the notion of segregation or separation is a familiar concept embedded deep within Judaism.
We are told to marry only within our faith. We are divided into Jews and Gentiles. We are not to touch an unrelated person of the opposite sex. We are divided into men and women.
We are instructed to observe the Sabbath. Seven days are divided into secular week and holy
Sabbath. We are told to eat only of the cloven hoof and the ruminant. Food is divided into kosher and not kosher. Each mitzvah that we are commanded by the Torah to perform reinforces the spiritual divide between sacred and profane. The very relationship that Jews experience in the non-Jewish world exists within the context of our community, within the 53
framework of our religion. Perhaps that is precisely why we survived for centuries in segregated spaces that would have been motivation enough for others to leave the fold.
Synagogue as Home
Many dis/abled Jews also yearn for familiar sacred spaces, for an elusive "home" in which they would be welcomed. As Kaufman (1999) has pointed out, synagogue is home for many
Jews, regardless of religious affiliation. Perhaps synagogues are even more important to
Jews who are not traditionally observant. Orthodox Jews maintain many traditions in their homes, but non-observant Jews may be limited to the practice of ritual observances within institutional frameworks. As will be discussed in Chapter Five, dis/abled Jews are often unable to be "at home" in synagogue environments due to the physical and attitudinal barriers they face. Of course, dis/abled Jews are not alone.
Members of other oppressed groups have vmtten of themselves as "being without a home" or anticipating a loss of home if they do not fit social criteria. Gloria Anzaldua, a Chicana lesbian feminist, writes in her book, Fronteras/Borderlands (1987) of the tenuous existence on the margins, a Mexican American unwelcome in the heart of the territory. Anzaldua also expresses a commitment to create a home, even if those in control refuse her request; 54
"And if going home is denied me, then I will stand and claim my space, making a new culture - una cultura mestiza - with my own bricks and mortar and my own feminist architecture" (Anzaldua, 1987, p.23).
Similarly, Rod Michalko, writes in his book The Difference that Disability Makes, (2002) of sighted space as a homeland,
"As at home as I was in this country of the sighted, I knew that it was not at home with me. If this country discovered that I was not fully sighted, it would try to banish me" (Michalko, 2002, p. 21).
Like Anzaldua, Michalko's awareness of his difference increases his sense of alienation from his "home", a place to which he would otherwise unquestionably belong.
Parallel Places:
Jews Design their Synagogue as Dis/abled Jews Design their Bodies
Henri Lefebvre states in his book The Production of Space; (1991)
"Architecture produces living bodies, each with its own distinctive fraits. The animating principle of such a body, its presence, is neither visible nor legible as such, nor is it the object of any discourse, for it reproduces itself within those who use the space in question, within their lived experience." (Lefebvre, 1991, italics in original, p. 137).
Similarly, Lindsay Jones, in his noted work. The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture
(2000), comments that 55
"affording religious buildings personalities, lives, voices of their own is essential if we are to deliver rigorously, empirically accurate interpretations of the use and apprehension of specific sacred architectures" (Jones, 2000, p.2).
Clearly, then, the interaction between space, spirit and society, body and building, are crucial. This theoretical notion of sacred architecture as liminal space influences its capacity to include dis/abled persons. If a structure is not only created but re-created by its users, how do dis/abled persons inform the premises they have yet to enter?
Identifying sacred spaces only with those who have designed and crossed its boundaries reinforces the exclusion of already marginalized persons.
Synagogues may communicate with their designers in uncomfortable encounters. The experience is limited to that of viewer and viewed. Instead of interaction, an exchange of the worshipper with their sacred space, a one directional gaze results. As John Berger notes in his book Ways of Seeing (1985), in patriarchal society; "men act and women appear. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at" (p. 47). In
North America and Europe, in a parallel fashion. Christians act and Jews appear.
Christians look at Jews. Jews watch themselves being looked at. Jews designing synagogues do so with the consciousness of someone being watched, previous powerlessness governing the creation of what is to be watched by the watcher. Inevitably, this painful acknowledgement alters the original structure and the relationship between designer and the designed, the people and the place. 56
Similarly, dis/abled persons are conscious of the visual scrutiny to which they are routinely subjected. One book, No More Stares (Carrillo, Corbett and Lewis, 1982), specifically confronts this social phenomenon. The young women in the photos stare at the reader, challenging accepted notions of dis/abled passivity. Photographer David
Hevey compares photography to theatre and argues that a dialogical relationship exists between viewer and viewed just as it does between audience and actors. Furthermore,
Hevey (1992) claims that in both theatre and photography, dis/abled persons are the focus of staged tragedy, thus reinforcing the overwhelmingly negative portrayal of dis/abled persons.
Synagogue locations of previous centuries reflected the social status of their users.
Similarly, the location of dis/ability specific features reflects the status of dis/abled persons. A ramp placed at the back of a building, close to the garbage dumpster, in a poorly lit area speaks to the lack of importance attributed to wheelchair users. AJIA.S.L. interpreter forced to sign off to the side, away from the bima, where she is less visible, states that Deaf persons are not equally entitled to access the liturgy.
A dialogical relationship exists between a Jew and their synagogue. Similarly, a reciprocal relationship exists between dis/abled persons and those objects attributed to them which are present in sacred space. The tzedekah box, for example, a traditional part 57 of synagogue architecture for centuries, subtly reinforces dis/abled persons as objects of charity. The relationship becomes especially complex if the dis/abled person indeed depends on the contents of the box.
The knowledge that we are subjects of an external gaze influences how we, as Jews, design our place of worship. Similarly, dis/abled persons, subjects of able-bodied assessment, carve our bodily architecture to conform to social expectation. We wear prostheses rather than allow a stump to be visible. We hide our urine bag underneath our clothing. We conceal our blindness by wearing sunglasses. While able-bodied Jews seek the synagogue as a place of safety, dis/abled Jews retain their disguise even within it. The synagogue is rarely "home" to those whose physical or emotional features reside beyond the pale.
Physical Features in a Synagogue that Affect Accessibility to Dis/abled Jews
There are numerous features within synagogue spaces that enhance or detract from physical accessibility to dis/abled persons. Below is a table reviewing various features present in three of the many synagogues I visited as I conducted my research. 58
Table 1:
Physical Features in a Synagogue that Affect Accessibility to Dis/abled Jews:
A Review of Three Buildings Participating in this Study.
Feature Synagogue Synagogue B Synagogue C A
Intercom system no yes- guard on duty yes Wheelchair access at no yes-entrance on one level yes-ramp, but entrance not to code Wheelchair access within no yes, ramp, but not to code yes-all on one synagogue level
Sanctuary Avon Hakodesh Stairs yes Yes yes
Ramp no No yes Parochet Easy to move? yes Yes yes Handles Easy to grasp yes Yes yes Braille or tactile guide to no No no door
Movable Pews chairs no chairs flexible flexible Space for Wheelchairs? none in aisles, at back anywhere Shelves on back of pews to lay siddur no space in pews for siddur no space in lay siddur on table pews for siddur
Bima Stairs yes Yes yes Ramp no No yes Lectern at sitting level no no no
Torah Large print no No no Braille no No no 59 Siddur Large Print yes Yes no Braille yes Yes no A.S.L. interpreting no by arrangement weekly
FM Audio Amplification no Yes no System
Scent free space yes, on No no sabbath Nut free kiddush no No no
Mikveh Chair lift no not applicable not applicable Large print blessing no not applicable not applicable Wide aisles to approach area no not applicable not applicable Material in plain language no not apphcable not applicable
Ritual hand washing Space Washing cup easily accessed yes not applicable not applicable Space for wheelchair under no not applicable not apphcable counter Tactile guide no not applicable not applicable Water spout reachable yes not applicable not applicable Blessing in large print yes not applicable not applicable
Bathroom Large size stall yes Yes yes Grab bars on two sides no no no Hook for coats at lower no Yes no level Automatic door no No no Sanitary dispenser at lower no No no level Diaper changer at lower not No not applicable height applicable Mirror at lower height no No no Automatic water faucet no Yes no Tactile signs on doors no No no
Coat hangers at lower level yes no no 60 Playground
Bright colours no Yes not applicable Sandbox at waist level no No not applicable Tactile markers no No not applicable Wheelchair swing no No not applicable Auditory cues no No not applicable
Universal Design: One Solution
The term universal design was coined in the late 1980's by Ron Mace, an architect and wheelchair user. Mace argued that universal design is "a commonsense approach to making everything we design and produce usable by everyone to the greatest extent possible." (Center for Universal Design, 2002, no page number). Unlike accessible design with its emphasis on legislative compliance, universal design accents the methods by which the space or product can be used by the greatest number of people. A location close to public transit, facilities easily located and directories effortlessly understood are all considered part of a universal design application (Preiser and Ostroff, 2001).
Mace subsequently developed seven principles of universal design. They consist of the following key concepts:
1) Equitable Use: The design is useful to people with diverse abilities.
2) Flexibility in Use: The design accommodates a wide range of abilities.
3) Simple and Intuitive Use: The design is easy to understand, regardless of the
user's experience, knowledge, language skills or current concentration level. 61
4) Perceptible Information: The design communicates necessary information
effectively to the user, regardless of ambient conditions or user's sensory abilities.
5) Tolerance for Error: The design minimizes hazards and adverse consequences of
accidental or unintended actions.
6) Low Physical Effort: The design can be used efficiently, comfortably and with
minimum fatigue.
7) Size and Space for Approach and Use: Appropriate size and space is provided for
approach, reach, manipulation and use regardless of user's body size and posture
or mobility (Center for Universal Design, 2002).
While universal design has typically been applied to the secular built environment, its principles can also enhance sacred spaces. The essential elements used in synagogue interiors can be usable by a higher percentage of the total population when universal design principles are in place.
Below are possible changes that could be applied to the holy ark, the bima and the mehitza. These suggestions do not constitute a comprehensive list. Rather, they should be considered a starting point from which congregants can increase accessibility to synagogue spaces. I focus on these three specific elements of synagogue architecture as they are the most sacred and the most likely to be inaccessible to the greatest number of people. The Holy Ark
The holy ark houses the Torah. Typically, it is elevated, accessed by a number of stairs.
Universal design would dictate one of two possible solutions. The ark could rest on the floor, not elevated at all, projected out from the wall. This would allow space for wheelchair users to approach from any direction. Alternatively, an architect could create a very gentle slope, at the top of which, the holy ark would rest. This effect would allow ambulatory individuals to walk up and wheelchair users to ride up. This second option demands more space. A gradual rise rather than a steep ramp^^ would be required.
In many synagogues, the holy ark has heavy doors which demand arm sfrength. Doors on a track with rollers, however, move effortlessly. The latter would be easier to use for persons whose wrist or arm strength is compromised. If the parochet, the curtain covering the holy ark, is a bright colour such as red or green and contrasts with the colour of the surrounding walls, persons with low vision could distinguish the ark from its surroundings. Having different textured surfaces would assist those who are colour blind.
The Ontario Building Code requires that ramps be built at a grade of 1:12. The Americans with Disabilities Act (A.D.A.) however, requires that ramps be built at a grade of 1:20. Ramps are often built so steeply that wheelchair users cannot negotiate them independently. Such ramps are also physically dangerous. 63
The Bima
The bima, or reader's platform, could also be reached on floor level or by the creation of a gradual slope. A location in the middle of the congregation, rather than at the front, would mean additional space requirements.
A bima typically stands at the height of an able bodied person. On occasion, a bima is built at the height of wheelchair users. Universal design principles dictate that the bima be equally usable by everyone. A bima could be built at standing level, but have a ledge on rollers underneath, at sitting level. When required, the ledge could be rolled out.
Otherwise, it would remain invisible, inside the larger frame structure.
Typically, a prayer sheet is on the bima to assist those unfamiliar with the words or those not fluent in Hebrew. Providing the prayer sheet in large print and in Braille would ensure that people with low vision or who are blind would also be able to participate.
Finally, an A.S.L. interpreter should have designated space at the bima. Deaf or hard of hearing congregants could then follow the service easily. 64
The Mehitza
A mehitza is a separation between men and women at prayer. It is present only in
Orthodox synagogues. In older buildings, the "ladies gallery" is often on the second floor.
This architectural arrangement means that male wheelchair users may access public prayer while women wheelchair users cannot. Ideally, the men and women's section should be side by side. This would allow children to move freely between their parents.
A mehitza may be a solid wall or be partially made of wood with curtains at the top. The curtains can be moved during the rabbi's sermon. A mehitza should be made of contrasting materials or colours, in order to distinguish it from its surroundings. Wide aisles can provide wheelchair access. In the alternative, a mehitza on wheels could easily be moved from side to side.
Conclusion
There are many parallels between the oppression of Jews and that of dis/abled persons.
Our shared history of enforced segregation is most notable. While most Jews are now
integrated within mainstream secular society, most dis/abled persons are not. Dis/abled
Jews are often segregated even within the synagogue. 65
There are architectural approaches such as universal design which would enhance physical accessibility to dis/abled persons within sacred spaces. These methods, for the most part, have not been applied to synagogue environments. The reasons for this evident gap will be explored in greater detail in Chapter Five. 66 Chapter 4
"No Partnerships Before the Revolution:
The Importance of Dis/ability Centred Research
In this chapter, I discuss the significance of dis/abihty centred research. This type of research a) addresses dis/abihty issues b) aUies itself with the dis/abihty rights movement and its goals and c) takes direction from those dis/abled persons most likely to be affected by the research outcomes. In addition to my examination of research methods as described above, I address questions of partnership, the relationship that dis/abled persons have to research efforts and challenge notions associated with objective and rationalist modes of social inquiry.
Since dis/abled Jews have been largely invisible in research theorizing our lives, this thesis aims to make dis/ability visible as a category of inquiry both within the Jewish community and within scholarly writing. While there is indeed a literature which examines Jews with impairments, it does so from a perspective focused on deficiencies, embedded in a medical model with little, if any, critique of its own ideological underpinnings. Sample titles emphasize the dis/abled person as a source of discomfort for
^ Professor Rahder posed this question in the context of a conversation about research partnerships which involve both able-bodied and dis/abled persons. For a more detailed discussion, see page 65 of this document. Thanks to Professor Rahder for a great title! 67 able-bodied individuals. Titles such as "Stress and adaptation in orthodox Jewish families with a disabled child" (Leyser,1994), "Down's Syndrome: Informing the parents - guidelines with a Jewish perspective" (Kupietzky, 1991), "Attitudes towards mild and severe mental handicap in Israel" (Weller and Aminadav, 1989), "How the religious community can support the transition to adulthood-a parent's perspective" (Homstein,
1997) all focus on able-bodied individuals - their attitudes, their experiences in relation to dis/abled persons. Nowhere in the scholarly literature were there articles written by dis/abled Jews about our experiences of Judaism and the Jewish community. This thesis, then, is an opportunity to remedy the situation and allow dis/abled Jews to share our perspectives.
The method by which one examines a social issue is as crucial as the issue itself
Research is a politicized activity, highlighting embedded relations of power and privilege. As Kathryn Lynch writes in her analysis of research and social change;
"No matter how deep the epistemological commitment to value neutrality, decisions regarding choice of subject, paradigmatic frameworks, and even methodological tools, inevitably involve political choices, not only within the terms of the discipline, but even in terms of wider political purposes and goals. The academy itself and academic knowledge in particular is deeply implicated in the business of power" (Lynch, 1999, p. 43).
A number of dis/ability studies scholars state that, in their view, unless dis/abled persons are in control of the research, it is fundamentally flawed from the outset. Dis/abled persons must be involved in every aspect of research, at every stage, from design to 68 implementation, analysis, evaluation and dissemination of the results. Stone and
Priestley, able-bodied dis/ability researchers, state;
"Only when the dis/abled people and their organizations are at the apex of the research hierarchy (and this includes control of the financing of research) can research be deemed 'emancipatory'." (Stone and Priestley, 1996, p. 704).
Colin Barnes, an academic with a visual impairment, states clearly that able-bodied researchers can certainly investigate dis/ability issues. However,
"the emancipatory research agenda warrants the transformation of the material and social relations of research production. This means that disabled people and their organizations, rather than professional academics and researchers, should have control of the research process. This control should include both funding and the research agenda" (Barnes, 2002, p. 8).
Finally, Gerry Zarb, an able bodied researcher, states that:
"[sjimply increasing participation and involvement will never by itself constitute emancipatory research unless and until it is disabled people themselves who are controlling the research and deciding who should be involved and how" (Zarb, 1992,p.l28).
Not only must dis/abled researchers be accommodated so they can conduct their work as would their able-bodied peers (Oliver and Barnes, 1997); they must also report to organizations composed of dis/abled persons informed by a dis/ability rights perspective.
For an uninitiated researcher, however, it might be difficult to ascertain which groups of dis/abled persons articulate their analysis in the "politically correct" framework
(Walmsley, 2001; Stone and Priestly, 1996). 69
Of course, one might also ask why someone not conversant with dis/ability politics would embark upon a dis/ability related research project in the first place. The history of dis/abled persons and their exploitation by researchers is sufficient reason, writers claim, to deny access to even well intentioned able-bodied groups (Barnes, 1996; Zarb, 1992).
Because persons with impairments have often been subjects of research and suffered as a result, it is crucial that research about us be controlled by us (Oliver, 1992; Zarb, 1992).
As Michael Oliver states in his article,"Capitalism, Disability and Ideology: A Materialist
Critique of the Normalization Principle":
"Disabled people, whose intellectual labours have produced the social model, have done this without access to the kinds of resources available to international academic superstars, professionals and policy makers as well as the usual coterie of hangers on and freeloaders. Imagine how much farther down the road we might be if disabled people had been given these resources to develop our own social theory, our own quality measures for human services and our own classification schemes" (Oliver, 1999, p. 9).
Indeed, it is precisely this imbalance in the distribution of power and resources that must be rectified. Until dis/abled persons are proportionately represented within academic institutions, receive adequate budgets to investigate dis/ability from within the dis/ability experience, and have equal access to scholarly publications and the mainstream press, there can be little discussion of "partnerships" between able-bodied and dis/abled research practitioners. Inevitably, in such situations, the dis/abled investigator will be disadvantaged by the social and political position they occupy. 70
Some academics may view the above statements as "essentiaUst". Dis/abled persons, they argue, should no more control dis/ability studies than Jews should control Jewish studies.
There are, however, issues of power and privilege that arise in the context of dis/ability related research. Demanding that dis/abled persons control research about our lives is
NOT essentialist. It is a demand emanating from a lengthy history of oppression.
Dis/abled people have been victims of unscrupulous research. Psychiatric survivors at the
Allan Memorial Hospital in Montreal were uninformed subjects of mind control experiments funded by the CIA (Collins, 1988). Developmentally dis/abled persons were subjected to radiation experiments by the United States government (Moreno, 2000).
Black men were allowed to die from syphilis while doctors studied the course of deterioration their patients experienced (Jones, 1981). People of short stature were also
"subjects" for Josef Mengele at Aushwitz (Rozen, 1999). Jewish dis/abled persons are, consequently, more hesitant to participate in research endeavours; the words "research" and "experiment" are layered with multiple meanings and a history of genocide.
Able-bodied professionals continue to exert their authority, in many cases violating the legal rights that we have struggled so long to attain. As only one example, violence is routinely perpetrated against dis/abled persons within the medical system. We are forcibly drugged (Makin, 2003), illegally restrained (Seguin, 2003), electroshocked
(Lyons, 2002) and illegally sterilized (Hall, 2002). Sometimes, doctors steal organs from 71 our bodies after our death (Lawless, 2003). The professionals who treat us in such horrendous ways are often the very people conducting the research. It is NOT essentialist to demand that dis/abled persons control dis/ability related research. It is the only method by which we can protect ourselves.
The "partnership" (between professional and dis/abled person) model of research can be a powerful learning tool. However, it also reproduces hierarchical relationships that exist between able-bodied and dis/abled persons elsewhere. For example, Moore et al describe their efforts to include the voices of Deaf students in research focused on Deaf education.
The research, funded by a social service agency, was controlled by teachers invested in the oral method of Deaf communication. These teachers handpicked research participants. Only students known to be sympathetic to the oral method of communication were invited. Students who wanted to use sign language were not included. Therefore, had the investigators continued with their study, the results would only have reproduced the difficulties that Deaf sign language advocates already faced
(Moore et al., 1998).
As a result of precisely such experiences, the motto in the dis/ability community is often stated as "nothing about us without us" (Charlton, 2000). The clarion calls for direct involvement of dis/abled persons in all activities and decision-making processes pertaining to our lives. 72
Rationalist Modes of Social Inquiry
Some may argue that dis/abled researchers are unable to be "objective" when examining subjects related to dis/ability. Feminist researcher and theoretician, Liz Stanley, states that; "Objectivity is a set of intellectual practices for separating people from knowledge of their own subjectivity" (1990, p. 11). Indeed, this characterization of the rational mode of scholarly investigation is common among dis/ability studies academics and activists.
Dan Goodley, a researcher working with developmentally dis/abled self-advocates, comments that; "Non-positivistic research has replaced objectivity with subjectivity.
Consequently, the subjectivity of the researcher is considered to be a strength, not a weakness"(1999, p. 25). After elaborating at length on the participatory process in which he engaged with a self advocacy group, Goodley concluded that; "There is no room for the distant outsider in disability research. It is acceptable and right to state where your loyalties are" (1999, p. 42).
This is particularly the case, because as Goodley and Moore point out in yet another article, there are inherent conflicts between the researcher's desire to challenge the status quo and their need for publications in peer reviewed journals and conference presentations. Goodley and Moore ask reflexively:
"Is it disingenuous for researchers to advocate research and empowerment when they also seek scores in research assessment exercises that are, arguably, inversely related to prospects for empowerment?" (2000, p. 875). 73
It is inevitable that researchers will experience a conflict of interest at some point in their career. Being transparent about one's own loyalties, as Goodley suggests, allows the subjects under scrutiny and those involved in the administration of the project to determine if their own needs can also be served in the process.
Colin Barnes, in his article, "The Myth of the Independent Researcher", argues that there is no such thing as an independent investigator,
"If dis/ability research is about researching oppression, and I would argue that it is, then researchers should not be professing 'mythical independence' to disabled people, but joining with them in their struggles to confront and overcome this oppression. Researchers should be espousing commitment, not value fi^eedom, engagement not objectivity, and solidarity, not independence. There is no independent haven or middle ground when researching oppression; academics and researchers can only be with the oppressors or oppressed" (Barnes, 1996, p. 110).
In addition, just as feminist scholars assert that women interviewing women produce more comprehensive analyses of the female circumstance (Oakley, 1981), dis/abled researchers report that it is much easier to establish trust with their dis/abled subjects as they share common experiences and understandings (Sherry, 2002; Morrell-Bellai and
Boydell, 1994). These bonds cannot be easily contrived. They exist precisely because researcher and researched claim membership in the same group.
However, just as Mary it Bola challenges Oakley's perceptions of the universal female interviewer and her innate ability to resonate with female interviewees (Bola, 1995), so 74
Jackie Downer argues against any connection with the estabhshed white, male dominated self-advocacy movement in the U.K. (Walmsley & Downer, 1997). Clearly, not all women can easily interview other women. Not all dis/abled persons will feel an immediate connection with all other dis/abled persons (Walmsley, 2001). Differences based on class, race, age and sexual orientation can easily disrupt notions of solidarity.
Despite these caveats, I believe that insider status facilitates communication between researcher and researched. Certainly, informants responded to my questions more openly when they were aware of my psychiatric history. As a researcher, I spoke more easily when I was being honest with those before me. Perhaps, engaging in qualitative research, is equally, engaging in a dialogue. Our shared experience creates safety. This factor, perhaps, contributed most to the establishment of a rapport with informants at the various synagogues. 75
Chapter 5:
Researching Dis/ability: Synagogue Accessibility in the Greater Toronto Area
Preliminary Note
Some identifying features of informants have been changed. Where possible, individuals have been referred to in plural form in order to avoid attributing a gender designation.
Denomination and nature of impairment, where indicated, are accurate, but only insofar as necessary to illustrate particular points. For example, in discussions involving wheelchair users, one type of mobility impairment may be substituted for another. These measures have been taken in order to ensure confidentiality of informants.
Synagogue congregations participating in this study are mentioned only by pseudonym.
The names do not correspond to any real Canadian place of worship. Some identifying features have been deliberately altered to ensure the anonymity of participants.
Description of Research
The first portion of my research focused on aspects of the built environment. I wished to determine the extent to which different synagogues were physically accessible to 76 dis/abled persons. Furthermore, I had wanted to understand what forces hampered efforts to increase accessibiUty.
I visited twenty-six synagogues and photographed the majority of them. I was, therefore, able to compare and contrast older and more recent buildings, congregations affiliated with different denominations of Judaism and the architectural variety of synagogues both
Sephardi and Askenazi. While my research was not focused on synagogue architecture per se, a knowledge of the essential elements contained in a Jewish place of worship assisted me in my subsequent analysis of accessibility.
During my visit to each building, I noted the presence or absence of a variety of accessibility related features such as ramps, elevators, large print newsletters, etc.
Administrators were generally quite helpful in pointing out positive aspects of their particular building. A number of rabbis and / or executive directors refused to allow me to enter their institution. Others gave me permission to view the site, but not to take photos. One rabbi wanted a notarized letter from my professor attesting to the exact nature of my research prior to my entering the premises.
There did not appear to be any correlation between the level of accessibility of the various synagogues and the willingness of their administrations to participate in this study, hi fact, the rabbi who insisted on a notarized letter worked in what appeared to be 77 a modem, accessible building. Staff at some locations offered me tours somewhat apologetically, indicating that they were aware of their own synagogue's deficiencies.
Given the security concerns that members of the Jewish community face, I was surprised and pleased to be given such free access to the majority of synagogue structures.
Originally, I had intended to focus the second portion of my research on the development of popular education exercises. I had wished to design interactive workshops that would increase awareness of dis/ability. These participatory events, I had hoped, would encourage synagogue congregations to increase accessibility to dis/abled Jews. Like many others, I had envisioned structural changes that would include the removal of physical barriers.
I realized quickly, however, that emphasizing "bricks and mortar" was a grievous error. It was a limited approach which reduced dis/abled persons to the technological devices and architectural alterations they required. The elimination of discriminatory attitudes and practices were an important, and often, ignored aspect of barrier removal. Implementing the inclusion, as opposed to, integration of dis/abled persons was, therefore, a complex matter. This necessity to see beyond the "simple" solution comprised the greatest part of my learning. 78
Research Method: Focus Group and Individual Interviews
Focus groups are common among market researchers working in the private sector
(Greenbaum, 1993). They are typically viewed as only one aspect of the research endeavour, to be complemented with quantitative analyses of potential sales for a proposed product. Anthropologists, sociologists and psychologists also use focus groups, but less has been written about them in this context (Schensul et al, 1999; Vaughan,
Schumm and Sinagub, 1996; Morgan, 1988).
Focus groups have also been used to acquire knowledge about the lives of dis/abled persons (Schulze and Angermeyer, 2003; Forrester-Jones et al, 2002). However, there does not appear to be any discussion of focus groups as a form of research involving dis/abled persons.
There are indeed many benefits to focus group research. It is less time consuming to interview a number of people at once, rather than individually. Furthermore, a group discussion allows the researcher to note dynamics between participants and record alternating points of view. Conversations often reveal a community's particularities, including vocabulary, practices, aspects of negotiating conflict, etc. Many of these interactive phenomena would not be evident in an individual interview. In addition, there 79 is the possibility that heightened awareness could result in a collective response to common experiences of oppression.
Preparing to Engage in the Research
Initially, I believed I could investigate all one hundred twenty synagogues in the Greater
Toronto Area. Such naivete, while appealing, was sadly short-lived. In the end, my committee and I agreed that I would conduct three focus group meetings. Each meeting would address the accessibility, loosely defined, of a different synagogue.
Given the limited amount of time available to conduct focus group meetings, I wanted to increase the likelihood of a positive response to my inquiries. I also wished to highlight religious institutions which demonstrated at least some accessibility principles in action. I contacted rabbis at three disparate synagogues, Anshei Plotsk, Beth Rahamim and Chayei
Torah. Focus groups were arranged at each location.
The workshops were advertised either in a newsletter and / or through word of mouth. At both Beth Rahamim and Chayei Torah, the rabbi and members of staff contacted potential participants. According to the secretary at Beth Rahamim, these invitations were not always welcome. "I contacted them because they are dis/abled. They became upset and 80 said that they did not wish to be singled out." As the organizer, it is difficult to know, therefore, how many people did not attend due to such incidents.
Meetings were held in the synagogue to which congregants belonged. The only outsiders were myself and the A.S.L. interpreters. All participants knew one another. By ensuring that focus group members were speaking to friends or acquaintances in familiar surroundings, I hoped to increase the level of safety and trust that people experienced as they addressed dis/ability issues.
I also hoped that a high degree of physical comfort would help dis/abled persons to feel acknowledged as often, many necessary accommodations (such as attendant care, A.S.L. interpreters, etc) remain unrecognized. Snack foods provided also helped to create a convivial setting. Early arrivals helped the facilitator set up and thus established comfortable connections.
Conducting the workshops
At the beginning of each workshop, participants were asked "What is disability?" This brainstorming exercise helped to clarify participants' understanding of the social model / medical model dichotomy. Then, focus group members were asked to describe the ways in which their synagogue was accessible to dis/abled persons. After a list of accessibility 81 features was compiled, participants were asked to describe ways in which their synagogue was inaccessible to dis/abled persons. Subsequently, they were invited to suggest "next steps" to promote greater inclusion within their own congregation
(Appendix 1). Finally, at the end of the workshop, participants were asked to complete a feedback form (Appendix 2) which was sent to my supervisor. I had hoped that addressing the forms to a third party would allow the focus group members to be more critical of my work if they chose to do so.
All information offered during the discussion was recorded on flipchart paper. Every sentence was repeated in order to ensure clarification. This repetition also assisted persons with visual impairments to remain involved in the conversation. Writing everything on paper also made the process more transparent. When participants disagreed with material recorded, they corrected me immediately.
Although I had initially decided to tape record meetings for persons with limited or no access to print, I ultimately decided against this method of documenting focus group conversations. Many psychiatric survivors are uncomfortable with the use of a tape recorder which is associated with unwelcome therapeutic interventions (Parr, 1998;
Morrell-Bellai and Boydell, 1994). I, therefore, relied on the use of verbal repetition to ensure unimpeded access to the proceedings. If a participant requests portions of my thesis on tape, however, I will ensure that they receive a copy. 82
Eight persons attended the Anshei Plotsk Synagogue focus group, no one attended the
Beth Rahamim Synagogue focus group and four persons attended the Chayei Torah
Synagogue focus group. Sixteen people were interviewed individually during 2002-2003.
The interviews were conducted primarily with members of the three synagogues involved in this research project. In addition, eighteen interviews were conducted in the summer of
2001. Results of these previous conversations are also incorporated when appropriate.
Table Two: Denominational Affiliation of Research Participants^^
Denominational Affiliation Number of Focus Group and Interview Participants
Orthodox 20 = 44% Conservative 7 = 15% Reform 9 = 20% Reconstructionist 0 = 0% Unaffiliated 2 = 4% Unknown 3 = Non-Jews 4 = 8 94 Total 45 = 100%
Statistics in tables one and two reflect denominational affiliation and relationship of focus group participants and individual interviewees to dis/ability issues. Please note that the numbers are not consistent. Some interviewees fell into more than one category and were therefore entered in both, acknowledging their dual roles. The disproportionate number of Orthodox interviewees reflects my own involvement in the Orthodox community. 83
Table Three: Relationship of Research Participants to Dis/ability Issues
Relation to Dis/ability Number of Focus Group Participants and Interviewees Issues
Dis/abled Person 13 = 28% Family Member 12 = 27% Professional 11 = 24% Rabbi 7= 16% I Other Synagogue I Employee
Total 50 = 111 %
There were certainly benefits to conducting my research in a focus group setting. I was able to meet groups of people rather than individuals. This was much less time consuming. Although, once groups were finished, participants sometimes still preferred to speak to me privately.
In addition, I was able to observe group dynamics and appreciate to a greater extent the nuances of intra-group communication. This type of more subtle examination would not have been possible while conducting individual interviews.
Perhaps most importantly, I wanted to create opportunities for an increased consciousness of dis/ability issues. By allowing the public face of dis/ability to emerge from within the
Jewish community, there exists the possibility that some form of collective action may be initiated in future. Recently, a dis/abled woman announced in the Canadian Jewish News 84 that she was organizing a support group for Jewish amputees (Speisman, 2003). This is exactly the sort of response I had envisioned. Perhaps some of the focus group members will be involved in such efforts further along.
Unfortunately, the focus group method of social research also had its drawbacks.
Members of a congregation were sometimes unable to attend on the date or location of a meeting. People did not wish to discuss publicly issues involving finances or family dynamics which they considered "personal". On occasion, the pain surrounding impairment and/or dis/ability was too much to bear in front of others. As a result of the above difficulties, informants asked to speak with me individually, hi addition to the focus groups, I, therefore, conducted sixteen individual interviews.
Some dis/abled persons have speech impairments. They communicate haltingly, with a stutter, slurred speech or perhaps use a synthesizer. Some people were afraid that group members would not wish to listen to them speak as their communication process took longer than a traditional verbal exchange.
Finally, within groups, there were potential participants who did not like one another.
Some people asked to speak with me individually in order to avoid someone else they knew would be at the meeting. As a result of the above factors, not all those that were interested in dis/ability issues attended the focus groups at their synagogue. 85
Chayei Torah Synagogue Focus Group
Four people attended the focus group at Chayei Torah synagogue. One participant was
Deaf Two participants were related to a dis/abled individual and were also service providers. The fourth participant worked for a Jewish organization. An interpreter was present and interpreted from American Sign Language (A.S.L.) into English and from
English into A.S.L. All participants knew one another and were members of the same congregation.
Before anyone introduced themselves, I spoke about myself I told participants that I was a psychiatric survivor. My research was being conducted in order to fulfill the requirements of an academic degree. However, the research also impacted upon me personally and upon people about whom I cared a great deal. I elaborated on my personal and social location as I wanted to establish my relationship to the subject.
During the conversation, one of the participants referred to people with "hearing impairments". The Deaf woman said; "Do not use that word. We are not impaired. We
are Deaf, deafened or hard of hearing." I was a bit anxious, wondering how the hearing service provider would take such direct instructions. The provider thanked the Deaf woman, took notes of the phrases mentioned and later used the preferred expressions in conversation. This level of sensitivity to language and its subtleties stood out in contrast
to a similar interaction I witnessed later at the Beth Rahamim synagogue. 86
During the focus group discussion, I noted that participants linked ableism to other forms of oppression such as racism and sexism (Appendix 3a). No one else established the same connections. Perhaps, in this regard, participants reflected the perspectives of the organization to which they belonged. When I visited the synagogue, the congregation's commitment to social justice was readily evident. Members organized an annual interfaith Sabbath service, collected food for a local food bank and supported a program that serves homeless people. These activities are in addition to the efforts most synagogues initiate on behalf of Israel or the Jewish community more generally. Linking the oppression of dis/abled persons to the oppression of poor people, for example, might be something that arose earlier in their community outreach activities.
Chayei Torah appears to attract people who might not fit in a more traditional congregation. At one small gathering conducted at about the same time as the focus group, I counted six people of colour and at least one lesbian couple. Dis/abled individuals appear to be only one of many disenfranchised groups welcome at this particular congregation. Perhaps congregations which have a greater acceptance of difference more generally are also more likely to welcome dis/abled members. 87
Anshei Plotsk Synagogue Focus Group
Eight individuals attended this workshop. Through the course of our discussion, we discovered that everyone in the group had a personal connection to dis/ability issues. One participant described being unable to concentrate, moving around constantly in class and being thrown out of a number of schools as a child. Participants expressed surprise.
Within this subset of the Jewish community, most members have arranged marriages.
Learning dis/abilities or "mental illnesses" are seen as genetic flaws to be avoided when considering potential marriage partners. In this social context, the participant's personal disclosure was a major risk. Their children are yet to be married. It might be difficult to locate potential partners if the community more generally were aware of their problems. Given this situation, this person's willingness to speak openly is a testament to their level of trust in the group.
Perhaps the depth of discussion began when I also took a major risk. At one point, folks joked about "meshugenes". During the exchange, I felt uncomfortable and wanted to share my responses. After the laughter ceased, I said that traditional academics often discouraged personal sharing. Researchers were supposed to adhere to a rationalist mode of inquiry and maintain distance. However, I needed to comment. To me, dis/ability research was not an intellectual exercise. I was a "meshugene" too, one of the very people they wished to avoid. I described briefly my psychological struggles as an adolescent. 88
People listened respectfully in silence. No one commented directly. However, it was after
I shared part of my past that other participants discussed their own struggles.
One woman described her daughter who had a life threatening illness. She often felt isolated with her child who required ongoing care. Another woman spoke of serious breathing difficulties and her desire to obtain a pension. She found it increasingly difficult to perform the duties associated with her job. We strategized together to determine ways in which to assist her. Other members of the group came up to me afterwards, sharing stories of their own psychological difficulties. I was very moved by people's openness.
The focus group was originally scheduled to go fi^om 9 to 10 p.m. I had expected everyone to leave by 10:30. The group discussion began promptly at 9 and ended at 11.
At 11:45, some people were still engrossed in conversation.
I was surprised that two women whom I thought had the most to gain said nothing. One woman's husband has multiple sclerosis and uses a walker. He does not attend Anshei
Plotsk with his wife because of the absence of an elevator. Another member of the group has macular degeneration. She is slowly losing her vision. Although she is apparently quite outgoing, she said nothing during the meeting. Because I was not sure who was aware of her condition, I did not want to ask direct questions. 89
Providing consent forms also became tricky. The woman with a visual impairment cannot read regular size print. If I had given her a large print form, however, I might have drawn attention to her condition in an uncomfortable way. Giving everyone large print might have solved the dilemma but would have been a waste of paper. In the end, I read the consent form out loud to everyone, making sure participants understood.
Beth Rahamim Synagogue
Although an ad was displayed in the synagogue newsletter and in a weekly flyer, no one attended the focus group. After reviewing the newsletter, it was obvious that the meeting was only one of many advertised. In retrospect, I should have invited members of the wider community and advertised more. However, I am not sure that the synagogue administration would have approved such an endeavour.
Because of the circumstances, I held an informal group discussion with three others present: the rabbi and two sign language interpreters, Barbara and Faygie. In the room, therefore, was an unaffiliated Jew, a Reform Jew, a Conservative Jew and an (almost)
Orthodox Jew. We spanned the spectrum of religious beliefs and practices.
There was some discussion about finances. I had booked the A.S.L. interpreters in advance, knowing that I would have to pay them whether or not any Deaf people 90 participated. It was important to me that Deaf people have equal access to events. Since a hearing person could decide at the last minute to attend, I wanted a Deaf person to have that same option, hi practice, it was expensive. I am still glad that I did it.
Initially, Barbara engaged the rabbi in conversation. I listened, keenly interested in the dynamics. The rabbi used the term "hearing impairment". Barbara repeated the phrase
"Deaf, deafened or hard of hearing." These are political terms that are very important to members of the Deaf community. The rabbi did not appreciate the implications. He continued referring to "hearing impairments" and Barbara continued correcting him.
The rabbi mentioned a responsum which addressed the propriety of blind people reading the Torah. The authors suggested that a blind person be the second reader. A sighted person would read the verse first and then the blind person would follow from a Braille
Torah. The rabbi saw this solution as "creating opportunities". I was not impressed.
Visual reading and tactile reading are both reading. A blind person reading from a Braille
Torah is "reading" in the only manner they can. The responsum negated Braille as a written language and diminished the blind person's humanity by insisting on a first reader.
The rabbi also offered examples of situations in which dis/abled persons celebrated bar or bat mitzvot. One young man held Xheyad in his father's hand as his father read the Torah. 91
Another man grunted at appropriate intervals. Each bar or bat mitzvah had an individual ceremony. There were modified services to accommodate the needs and abilities of the children. Financial assistance was available to provide educational assistants for dis/abled kids in school. All these elements associated with the bar and bat mitzvah program demonstrated great flexibility and sensitivity to the needs of dis/abled adolescents.
Faygie asked about the number of Deaf members at the synagogue. The rabbi explained that it was difficult to determine numbers. Some do not wish to be identified publicly.
Elderly people are not fluent in a.s.l. and cannot lipread. Close captioning is not available during the Sabbath. Because people do not self identify, the rabbi is not sure how many
Deaf congregants attend services.
The rabbi believed that large congregations encourage passivity. Many join for historic reasons i.e. their family were members and they continue the tradition. These people attend on an intermittent basis, hi large synagogues, members may not feel that their participation is crucial to the ongoing functioning of the organization. In contrast, smaller congregations offer a greater range of opportunities for active participation.
The rabbi observed that the local Jewish community is very factionalized. Children from the local Reform school rarely associate with kids from the Orthodox school even though 92 they are next door neighbours. They don't know each other. Therefore, there is no cross poUination amongst members of the community.
The rabbi also commented that it is difficult to organize dis/abled Jews as they are fragmented by dis/ability, denominational affiliation (and I would add, ethnic or racial origin.) An Orthodox Jew of African origin who is a psychiatric survivor will relate very differently to dis/ability issues than will a third generation Canadian Reform Jew who uses a wheelchair. Because of this sectarianism, the rabbi asserted, there is not enough of a perceived need nor enough pressure in any one congregation, to implement change.
I found the conversation with the rabbi at Beth Rahamim and the A.S.L. interpreters illuminating. It was an elaborate illustration of the conflicts between the social model and medical model analysis of dis/ability. It also contrasted the "bricks and mortar" solutions with the underlying attitudinal changes that must accompany structural alterations.
At one point, we discussed persons who had residual vision and the accommodations we could make to assist them. I suggested larger and brighter signage. The rabbi said that congregants want signage muted with less noticeable lettering. This might well be a nod to a security conscious membership. There are sometimes conflicts between the needs of dis/abled Jews and precautions taken as security measures. Ironically, in Europe, until the time of the emancipation, Jews were not allowed to build places of worship visible from 93 the street (Lemer, 2000; Jamilly, 1996). Today, we live in a society which allows us such freedom. However, we are still reluctant to proclaim our existence publicly in the face of persistent antisemitism.
Focus group discussion
Rapport among participants
Participants at both Beth Rahamim and Chayei Torah synagogues, as well as most interviewees, inquired about my denominational affiliation. I answered that I was traditionally observant but had a "revolutionary fervor." While being Jewish was an identity we shared, denominational affiliation was clearly an important factor in establishing connections. In a large city such as Toronto, it appears that many Jews identify themselves in specific, and sometimes, sectarian ways.
I was initially concerned that synagogue members might not speak easily in a group setting. I had never met the members of Beth Rahamim nor the ones at Chayei Torah.
Although I was acquainted with people at Anshei Plotsk, we had not traversed the intimate ground often associated with dis/ability and its vulnerabilities. Nonetheless, I need not have worried. Participants of both focus groups spoke candidly about a variety of personal issues. Sometimes, because of the nature of the discussion, I was asked not to record the matter on the flip chart paper. The degree of opermess surprised me. 94
Perhaps my own personal sharing allowed others to open up as well. It was difficult to be open as a psychiatric survivor in the Jewish community. I was afraid of exposing other members of my family inadvertently. However, as an advocate for the increased visibility of those with a psychiatric label, I thought it crucial that I put into practice the values that
I espouse.
What impressed me most about the conversations were not their content, per se, but the respectful and supportive ways in which members interacted with one another. In many situations I've experienced among Jews, conflict is dealt with directly, often with raised voices and passionate gesticulations.
These personal experiences are consistent with conclusions drawn by sociolinguist
Deborah Tannen, whose writing describes New York Jews as "high involvement" speakers prone to interrupting others in conversation. Tannen argues that communication styles are often culturally defined. Jews, Italians and Greeks, among others, tend to co operatively overlap in conversation as a form of implicit support. Persons from polite cultures, where each speaker takes a turn, may view constant interruptions as "rude" and regard exchanges with "high involvement" speakers as frustrating (Tannen, 1990).
In keeping with Tannen's observations, the constant flow of ideas within the focus group conversations felt familiar and comfortable to me. While I am also a high involvement 95 speaker, I was conscious of my role as investigator and focused more on recording comments than on participating myself
This conversational style presented problems on only one occasion. During the focus group at Chayei Torah, the A.S.L. interpreter struggled to keep up with the flow of words.
Typically, when an interpreter interprets the comments of someone new, they indicate the identity of the speaker to the Deaf audience. When there are multiple speakers overlapping, indicating identities is more challenging. At one point, the interpreter stopped and declared; "You are all speaking way too quickly. I cannot interpret everything at once. Slow down!" For a time, group members did speak more carefully, ensuring that the Deaf woman remained a part of the conversation.
At both the Chayei Torah and the Anshei Plotsk focus groups, members often disagreed with one another, but never let the specific issue interfere with expressions of caring. Was this group cohesion evident because members were a part of an already established community? Alternatively, did the primarily female composition of both groups lead to more co-operative rather than competitive discussions?
In reflecting upon the conversations described above, I consider Harvard University professor, Carol Gilligan's book entitled In a Different Voice. Gilligan argues that men tend to focus on professional achievement while women generally emphasize the 96 establishment and maintenance of relationships. Men live their lives using ethics based on justice, i.e what is morally right or wrong, while women use an ethic of care which emphasizes human bonds;
"From the different dynamics of separation and attachment in their gender identity formation through the divergence of identity and intimacy that marks their experience in the adolescent years, male and female voices typically speak of the importance of different truths, the former of the role of separation as it defines and empowers the self, the latter of the ongoing process of attachment that creates and sustains the human community" (Gilligan, 1982, p.156).
According to Gilligan, advocating equality in law does not require human connection.
On the other hand, loyalty, responsibility, and mediation are qualities found only within relationships. Care involves human connection. Gilligan is most certainly not an essentialist. In her view, women's need and maintenance of intimate bonds are the result of gendered forms of psychological training.
Certainly addressing the nature of impairment can involve care. However, the phenomenon described by Gilligan has also been applied to an analysis of women's conversation more generally (Tannen, 1990). The responses on the feedback forms confirmed the positive feelings sustained during the conversations. One participant referred to the group as "intimate" and noted the "good" discussion. Yet another commented that; "We were all friends and could relate to the answers put forth". Yet a third person wrote; "Humour and friendly interaction filled the air with pleasantness." 97
Some participants mentioned my skilled facilitation of the discussion. Others commented on my willingness to listen to differing points of view. I found those comments particularly amusing as that is the precise quality I appreciated most in the other focus group members! Perhaps we enjoyed our similarity and openness to one another! The overwhelmingly female composition of the participants might well have influenced the nature of our conversations. Given the very limited number of focus groups conducted, however, one can reach no firm conclusions.
Bricks and mortar
During the focus group conversations, the overwhelming emphasis was on the "bricks and mortar" approach to dis/ability access. People did not often question their attitudes or the impact their perspectives might have for those that cross their paths. Typically, participants mentioned ramps and elevators first, even if they were already installed.
Despite the variety of different dis/abling impairments, people still seem to think of a wheelchair user first when they think of "dis/ability".
Within the literature and during conversations, much emphasis was placed on bar and bat mitzvah programs which incorporated dis/abled children. This is certainly a praiseworthy development. I noted with chagrin, however, that not one person mentioned the marriage 98 of dis/abled persons. Is this because dis/abled persons do not marry or because such marriages are not viewed favourably? The answer remains unclear.
Despite the emphasis on dis/abled children in conversation, not one of the synagogue playground areas have accessible features. This is the case despite the movement in
Ontario to design such play environments (Murphy, 2000). Indeed, efforts to ensure integrated play areas began more than twenty years ago (Wilkinson, 1984).
Changing the physical environment, however, is only a first step. If dis/abled persons are not socially as well as physically integrated, real accessibility will not take place.
However, it is also true that it is only when attitudes change, that the physical environment will be altered. A nut-fi^ee kiddush, a scent-&ee sanctuary, newsletters in large print or in Plain English do not require dedication of enormous funds. Yet few synagogues have implemented these measures in their congregations. Renovations to the bima, the installation of elevators and the provision of A.S.L. interpreters can indeed be costly expenditures. If dis/abled citizens are valued as contributing members of the
Jewish community, however, such facilities will be provided. Social Relations
Focus group participants at Anshei Plotsk and Chayei Torah mentioned welcoming committee members greeting newcomers. This suggestion reflects Judaism's emphasis on hospitality. It is considered a good deed to invite potential guests to one's home for a meal, especially on the Sabbath. Welcoming the stranger more generally is a part of the culture. I wondered, however, about the implicit assumption inherent in the remarks.
Participants assumed that dis/abled Jews were currently outside the congregation. Indeed, both synagogues had a significant number of dis/abled members already. In addition to welcoming new members, why not ensure that current members have the supports they require?
One man's words struck me in particular. At seventy-five, Samuel is reliant on his family for assistance to attend services. He described his loneliness, stating that most young people are not interested in speaking with him. He is physically isolated in his home, but emotionally isolated at the synagogue. It occurred to me that the welcoming committee could welcome Samuel! 100
Social Model vs Medical Model Perceptions of Dis/ability
When the Chayei Torah focus group was asked "What is a dis/abilityT\ they replied primarily with notions embedded in the social model framework. Members saw dis/ability as "anything that prevents people from fitting into society at large", "people who take barriers and challenges and overcome them" and "people who need to use a different way of reaching goals". These responses acknowledge the influence that social attitudes and conditions exert on people who are "different". It is also interesting to note that while I asked about "dis/ability", the responses emphasized people. Because this was the first focus group that I facilitated, I did not appreciate the congregation's level of sensitivity until much later.
In contrast to Chayei Torah, members of the Anshei Plotsk focus group described dis/ability in medical model terms. They defined dis/ability as a "limitation", "handicap",
"inability to do something" and an "inconvenience". They saw it as "not normal",
"restricted", "painful" and "a hardship". Some members acknowledged that the perception of dis/ability was "situational", "cultural" and "based on opinion". This did not detract from their negative views, however. One participant tried to inject humour by stating that "a fish that cannot swim is a disabled fish". Nonetheless, no one challenged the speaker by suggesting that a dis/abled fish might be able to move in water without necessarily having to swim. 101
Although there were marked differences in definitions of dis/ability amongst the two synagogue groups, their perceptions of what constituted accessibility were remarkably similar. Both focus group discussions emphasized the removal of physical rather than attitudinal barriers. Chayei Torah members suggested "installation of porch lift", "Braille and large print prayer books", and "varying the colour of the carpets." Members of
Anshei Plotsk suggested a "ramp", "Sabbath elevator", "chair lift", and "making the food peanut-free."
Education
A number of respondents mentioned education in its various forms. Participants in the
Chayei Torah focus group mentioned learning A.S.L. Members of the Anshei Plotsk focus group mentioned learning first aid. Upon reviewing the responses, I was surprised that group members did not mention consciousness raising oriented workshops directed to their congregations. Neither participants of the Chayei Torah nor Anshei Plotsk groups saw their members as having oppressive attitudes. This is especially telling as members oi Anshei Plotsk made a variety of disparaging remarks about psychiatric survivors.
In contrast, individual interviewees mentioned dis/ability sensitivity exercises and simulation workshops developed to inform members of the Jewish community. Torah study is a highly respected undertaking, supported by Jewish community organizations.
Education, more generally, is an important Jewish cultural value. Perhaps learning about 102 dis/ability is viewed as a solution to the "problem". This response implicitly acknowledges the social model of dis/ability and seeks to change the attitudes that present barriers to participation.
Social Change
I approach dis/ability within a political context, connecting it to oppression based on gender, race, class and sexual orientation. Most group participants did not appear to view it in the same way. Nor did they necessarily see the need for an emancipatory form of research. In fact, some dis/abled people were explicitly not seeking emancipation. Many located their impairments strictly within their own bodies and devised solutions that were in their own control.
At one point, I suggested organizing dis/abled Jews as a specific constituency. Dis/ability can often lead to isolation. Many of us are so ashamed or afraid of exposure that we hide our impairments if we can. I thought that creating a group would help to raise awareness and pride in our successes as well as offer a vehicle through which we could take some form of political action. Other dis/abled Jews indicated they were not interested. When I mentioned advocacy for social change, the overwhelming majority said cynically,
"Nothing will happen." 103
Social Change and Religious Faith
Some participants viewed their impairments as central to their relationship with G-d. One person said that G-d gave them their impairment. Therefore, there must be something for them to leam from it. Another person, one whose particular medical condition leads to a painful form of death, stated that they were "angry with G-d" and had stopped attending synagogue altogether. In both cases, individuals did not see social action as a solution to their issues.
Some social scientists might consider this reluctance to engage in political advocacy consistent with adherence to a spiritual world view. If G-d created our circumstances, who are we, as humans, to object? On the other hand, I am very committed to a faith based approach to social justice. My desire to raise awareness of dis/ability issues is part of "tikkun olam ", a repairing of the world. Believing in G-d does not necessarily preclude a penchant for political protest. While liberation theology is a familiar concept to Christian leftists, it is not without its adherents in the Jewish community (Ellis, 1987).
Discussions Regarding Individual Interviews
In addition to three focus group meetings, I also conducted sixteen individual interviews with dis/abled persons, family members and professionals working in the field. These 104 interviews were held in a person's home or over the phone, according to participants' preferences.
It was helpful to contrast the types of issues discussed in groups as opposed to the content of individual interviews. Material was often richer, more emotional and detailed, when speaking one on one. To my great surprise, this was true even when speaking on the phone. Clearly, some dis/abled persons wanted to describe their reality to a willing listener. As one interviewee commented, "No one ever asks us how we feel."
As other investigators have noted (Rahder, 1999; Morell-Bellai & Boydell, 1994), researchers can also become upset by material describing vulnerability and abuse.
Although these issues did not arise in the focus group context, reference was made during individual interviews to a variety of intensely moving subjects including the pain of physical dependency and the fear of impending death. These were emotionally charged topics that challenged my ability to respond. In both situations, I listened supportively indicating my willingness to remain present. My stance apparently offered some safety as participants continued to engage me in conversation.
Upon review of the focus group discussions, I noted that most participants emphasized primarily, although not exclusively, synagogue design elements and functional use of 105 space. In contrast, individuals speaking in one-on-one interviews focused on personal experiences of discrimination and systemic aspects of oppression.
A majority of dis/abled persons insisted that rabbis, as spiritual leaders, are responsible for the manner in which they are treated by other congregants. Many rabbis, on the other hand, often felt limited in their actions by members of their boards. Some teachers working in synagogue schools thought that parents were in denial. They claimed that parents often refused to acknowledge that their child had an impairment. At the same time, some parents perceived teachers as "labeling" their children and therefore, limiting their academic choices.
Some dis/abled persons require assistance on a twenty four hour basis. In those situations, non-Jewish caregivers may accompany Jewish dis/abled persons to worship services.
At least two social service professionals mentioned that racist remarks and behaviours have been directed at Black caregivers at different synagogues. As a result, the caregivers refused to return to synagogue. Dis/abled Jews, therefore, were deprived of a spiritual community because of the racism of their co-religionists. Each person, no matter what their relationship to dis/ability issues, acknowledged that dis/abled Jews are often excluded from aspects of synagogue life. The explanations offered for this exclusion, however, depended on the social and political location of the informant. 106
The contrast between the focus of discussion in a large group and in individual conversation was striking. Many individuals expressed pain and fhistration at rabbinic ignorance of various impairments. One congregant mentioned that they required catheters. Each one is individually wrapped. A rabbi informed them that since it is not permissible to tear on the Sabbath, they should unwrap their catheters prior to Sabbath's approach. This practice, however, would mean that catheters would not be sterile.
Inserting unsterilized catheters could lead to serious urinary tract infections. The synagogue member, while faithfully adhering to religious precepts, was unwilling to take further risks with their already precarious health.
Clearly, medical necessity sometimes conflicts with Sabbath observance. "Pikuach nefesh" the saving of a life, is deemed by the sages as adequate reason to refrain fi-om observance of Sabbath related restrictions. According to Maimonides,
"If a person was deathly ill and doctors said that the appropriate cure was something forbidden by the Torah, that cure should be used, for one is allowed to heal using anything forbidden by the Torah with the exception of idolatry, adultery or bloodshed" (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesode Hatorah, 5:6).
According to this ruling, people who require respirators are permitted to use electricity on the Sabbath. It is not a sin. Given the danger associated with urinary tract infections, I would have imagined the rabbi issuing a "heter", an exemption, allowing the tearing of the wrapper on the Sabbath. 107
In another situation, a member of one synagogue spoke of their frustration sitting on a building committee. Money would be set aside for physical improvements to increase accessibility for wheelchair users. Then, a pipe would burst or the roof would leak and the cash would instead be used to make other necessary repairs. The person involved eventually confronted the board of the synagogue, speaking of the hypocrisy involved in setting aside money for one use and then allocating it elsewhere. "Either there is a commitment or there isn't", they said.
While adherence to halakha has sometimes limited access, financial concerns were often cited as the primary reason for the lack of physical accessibility. However, even when money had been set aside specifically for the removal of physical barriers, the cash was easily diverted elsewhere. In one situation mentioned in another interview, an organization received money from the government to improve accessibility.
Subsequently, the grant was used to pay off debts instead. What statement were administrators making about the importance of dis/abled persons when, in their haste to solve one problem, they ignored another?
One Jew spoke of their involvement in the installation of a ramp at their synagogue. The effort required to place a few planks of wood beside some steps was more than they had ever anticipated. They had no idea that years later, they would make use of the ramp themselves. 108
This statement, more than any other, illustrates the central argument in favour of universal design. Human life is unpredictable. Any one of us could become blind or paraplegic within minutes. If a synagogue's design welcomes everyone with its walls, there would be continuity of community for congregational members. A person would not be forced to seek a new spiritual home if they were no longer able to walk or see or hear. For Jews who are deeply involved with their synagogue, being forced to move elsewhere can be very difficult. The period immediately after the onset of an illness or injury is a time when most people are least able to cope and most in need of support.
Factors determining synagogue accessibility
Among the one hundred and twenty synagogues in the Greater Toronto Area, there are vastly different levels of accessibility. Halakha, Jewish religious law, does impact on design. The Aron Hakodesh, the cabinet housing the Torah, is almost always placed in an apse in the eastern wall, facing Jerusalem. Usually, there are at least twelve windows, applying the verse in Daniel (6:10) to the structure of current prayer houses. These elements apply across the denominational spectrum (Wigoder, 1986).
Because the use of electricity is prohibited on the Sabbath, there are no automatic doors in Orthodox synagogues. At one residence for senior citizens, there are two doors, one automatic, one opened by hand. The latter is labeled "Sabbath door." Similarly, 109
Orthodox congregants expect battery operated electric wheelchair users to stay at home on Sabbbath as use of their mode of transportation would be a violation of religious precepts.
Orthodox synagogues also include the mehitza, a physical separation between men and women. In synagogue, a heterosexual Deaf couple would require two A.S.L. interpreters, one for the Deaf male and one for the Deaf female. This requirement makes the provision of interpeters' services even more expensive.
The physical separation of men and women may also mean that men with mobility impairments have access to services when women with mobility impairments may not.
Often, in older synagogues, the men's section is on the first floor. The women's section is a large gallery on the second floor. In some places, like the Bevis Marks in London,
England, an additional mehitza is provided at the back of the ground floor so women wheelchair users can also attend services.
Even when a mehitza is provided on the ground floor, the alternate women's section may not be large enough to accommodate all those women who wish to use it. This need for a second women's section in Orthodox synagogues may become increasingly important as the population ages and stairs present even more of a barrier to access. 110
Some Conservative and Reform interviewees suggested that Orthodox congregations are less accessible to dis/abled persons than the liberal synagogues precisely because of stricter adherence to religious law. One Reform Jew commented; "Orthodox shuls are horrible at welcoming Deaf Jews. They will not let a female interpreter near the bima. So, she stood on the floor nearby and my partner could not see her at all. Just because you're a rabbi does not mean that you're a mentschl" One blind Jew commented; "They would not allow my guide dog inside the {Orthodox) synagogue. Other synagogues did not have a problem." Clearly, there are instances where religious law or custom interfere with the human rights of dis/abled Jews. However, halakha is not the sole determinant of accessibility to synagogue life.
Indeed, there are many other factors which appear to govern the level of synagogue accessibility. The age of the building, its location, the economic status of its members, the presence of children, the size of the original lot and security concerns all have a major influence on the ability of a synagogue to open its doors to dis/abled members.
In 1986, the Ontario Building Code (OBC) accessibility provisions were strengthened.
Synagogues built after that period adhere to the code's strict regulations. Older synagogues, built before that period, are often difficult and expensive to renovate. Ill
Frequently, congregations identified the need for an elevator. The installation of an elevator shaft and related structural changes can cost more than thirty thousand dollars.
Such an expense may prove prohibitive for smaller, less affluent congregations.
In some situations, members fundraise. Although, as one synagogue administrator told me,
"I thought that raising money for an accessible bima would be a 'motherhood' issue. Not so. It's not easy to raise money for accessibility. I was at a bar mitzvah on Sabbath. The boy's grandfather was in a wheelchair. Three people had to carry him up the stairs."
In another situation, a prominent donor to an Orthodox synagogue insisted that many accessibility features for wheelchair users be incorporated in the synagogue structure.
The donor was elderly and used a wheelchair. As a result, this synagogue often serves as a model of what can be done to enhance participation by those with physical impairments.
The location of the congregation also influences their level of accessibility. Some prayer groups are established by holding Sabbath services in shopping malls, schools or community centres. These public places are required to maintain at least a minimum level of physical access to the premises. The new congregation benefits from the accessible design of their host facilities. 112
The presence of children will sometimes result in inadvertent access for others. For example, in synagogues with a preponderance of youngsters, some items such as a tallit holder may be reached at wheelchair height. Coat racks at a lower level may be available for the same reason.
If the current lot size permits expansion, congregations can build a ramp or enlarge bathrooms without applying to the Committee of Adjustment to request a by-law exemption. Ramps, for example, may infringe on sidewalk space. The synagogue may be unable to comply with minimum setback requirements. If renovations make use of space in the parking lot, the place of worship may, as a result, no longer retain the required minimum number of parking spaces. An application to the municipality would then be necessary. In one such situation, a synagogue now faces a hearing before the Ontario
Municipal Board (0MB), a quasi judicial tribunal which renders appellate level land use decisions. Such litigation is lengthy and complex, usually requiring the services of a lawyer. This additional expense often discourages congregations from pursuing changes to the external structure of their place of worship.
Sometimes pre-existing family ties or financial commitments preclude increased accessibility. For example, one mother advocated strongly that her synagogue hire new caterers to provide food for the kiddush. She wanted to ensure a peanut-free space for her child. However, the parnas at the synagogue was friends with the existing caterer and had 113 guaranteed the owner a certain amount of business annually. This was a deal from which the synagogue would have had difficulty extricating itself In the end, there was no peanut-free kiddush.
Another factor which influences accessibility a great deal is the pervasive fear of anti- semitism or what are now referred to euphemistically as "security concerns". A dramatic increase in the number of antisemitic incidents in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) (Bnai
Brith Canada, 2003) in the last year has heightened awareness and increased fear of violence directed at synagogues. Indeed, a number of Jewish places of worship have been firebombed (Bnai Brith Canada, 2003).
There have also been reports of bomb threats made at synagogues, especially those housing Hebrew day schools (Csillag, 2001; Lungen, 2001). Some complain that such events are not routinely covered in the Jewish press. They suggest that private school administrations are afraid parents would withdraw their children. Alternatively, there may be so many such incidents that they are no longer considered newsworthy.
Fear of antisemitism influences many aspects of every day life. Some Orthodox boys wear baseball caps on top of yarmulkes to avoid the possibility of beatings. They prefer to hide the head covering which identifies them as Jews. They also tuck tzitzit, a ritual 114 fringed undergarment, inside their pants. All of the above experiences point to a heightened awareness of physical vulnerability, the possibility of being targeted as Jews.
While fear of rape is gendered and women are disproportionately victims of male violence, some Jewish men argue that antisemitic experiences are also gendered. Because of requirements to don ritual attire, religiously observant Jewish males are more visible as
Jews than are Jewish females. One Hassidic man, for example, argued that the Toronto
Transit Commission's "Request Stop" program which allows women to disembark at a location closest to their destination, should also be provided to Hassidic men. Men visible as Jews, he stated, may also be targets of violence or abuse.
Because of security concerns and the corresponding increase in insurance premiums, most synagogues have installed complex intercom systems and / or security guards stationed at the main entrance. Other doors are locked. These safety measures may enhance a congregation's sense of well-being and decrease insurance costs. However, they also detract from accessibility gains made previously. On at least one occasion, a ramp led to a closed door. The sign posted directed visitors to a door at the top of stairs!
Intercoms may deter interlopers; however, they also deny access to persons with particular impairments. A blind person cannot see the notice. A wheelchair user could see the buzzer but not reach it. A Deaf person would see the note and reach the buzzer. 115
However, they may not be able to communicate over the intercom. A person with cerebral palsy or a psychiatric survivor with tardive dyskenisia may have slurred speech.
These individuals may be perceived as drunk and be refused admission.
Some synagogues hire security guards to search anyone entering the premises. This is particularly true in synagogues where children attend day schools. Unfortunately, security guards may not have training in distinguishing a colostomy bag from a concealed weapon. Confrontations over such items can cause embarrassment. Apprehension about safety results in limited access to synagogues even in so-called "accessible" buildings.
Conclusion
Results of the focus group discussions, individual interviews and synagogue visits indicate that synagogues in the GTA are somewhat accessible to dis/abled Jews, but require many more architectural and attitudinal alterations. Denominational affiliation impacts on structural accessibility only insofar as adherence to halakha is emphasized in architectural arrangements. Complaints regarding the limits of social accessibility and discriminatory attitudes were made by dis/abled Jews connected to each of the three religious movements. There does not appear to be any one denomination of Judaism that is consistently more welcoming of dis/abled persons. 116
During my research, it became evident that different synagogues excelled in some areas and not in others. Not all synagogues in a particular denomination focused on the same dis/ability related issues. Each synagogue welcomed people with particular impairments.
For example, Chayei Torah included Deaf families. Anshei Plotsk included psychiatric survivors. Beth Rahamim attracted senior citizens with low vision. Each community addressed, at least minimally, the specific impairment related issues with which it was presented.
This was another important aspect of my learning during the research process. I had, perhaps somewhat condescendingly, assumed that dis/abled people were excluded entirely fi-om communal religious life and that synagogues were simply unresponsive.
This does not appear to be the case. Efforts are being made to create spaces that welcome dis/abled persons. In my estimation, greater energy and commitment are required.
Nonetheless, awareness is increasing, if only incrementally.
Because of the small scale of this survey, it is difficult to draw many firm conclusions.
Although computer assisted analysis of qualitative data using programs such as NUDIST is sometimes helpful, no such methods were engaged for the purposes of this study. A simple review of the material was undertaken and common themes emanating from the focus groups and interviews were noted. 117
The Toronto Jewish community is, to some extent, small and insular. As a result of the need to protect the identity of informants, limitations were imposed upon my work
Removing descriptive indicators, especially those related to gender and / or denominational affiliation, make some forms of analysis more difficult to undertake. I had initially hoped to explore some links between sexism and ableism in a Jewish context. For example, the feminization of Orthodox dis/abled men merits attention.
However, dis/abled men forced to pray in the women's section of a synagogue would be very noticeable. Their need for a constant female caregiver might readily identify them to others. Had I chosen to interview such individuals, I could have risked inadvertently exposing their identities. I, therefore, decided not to explore this specific issue. The repercussions for informants were too serious. 118
Chapter 6
Tzedekah, Tzedek and Tikkun Olam: Justice for Dis/abled Jews in the Synagogue
In this chapter, I compare and contrast the notions of tzedek, tzedekah and tikkun olam. I argue that while these words may be used interchangeably in certain contexts, they are very different in theory and in practice. By discussing physical and attitudinal accessibility of synagogues and the (in)visibility of dis/ability issues in the Jewish community, I hope to persuade readers that change is necessary.
Tzedekah, Tzedek and Tikkun Olam all make reference to aspects of justice within
Judaism. The meaning of each word varies, depending on context. Justice for some groups manifests differently than it does for others. Women, Mizrachi, gay men and lesbian Jews have all been acknowledged within our Jewish community. Each of these constituencies have organized support groups, cultural events as well as independent prayer groups or synagogues. Dis/abled Jews have done none of the above.
The organization "Women at the Wall" argued at the Supreme Court in Israel for permission to conduct women's prayer groups at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem (Joseph,
2003). Sephardi Jews created their own organizations such as the World Sephardi
Federation. They organize international conferences in order to maintain their particular customs and religious traditions (Arnold, 2003). In the movie. Trembling Before G-d, 119
Orthodox and Hassidic lesbians and gay men described their lives in the enclaves of
Williamsburg, Crown Heights, and Boro Park in New York City (DuBowski and
Smolowitz, 2001).
Each of the above marginalized groups has somehow managed to achieve what dis/abled
Jews have yet to accomplish. Women, Mizrachi, gay men and lesbian Jews have located accessible congregations, attained visibility and garnered some aspects of human rights entitlements. Dis/abled Jews, in contrast, continue to fight for the most basic accommodations. The demand for a ramp to the bima, for example, results in a request to organize a fundraiser rather than a structural adjustment.
Why is it that dis/abled Jews have not yet attained our most basic human rights? Is it perhaps because we have not organized a cross-disability support group? Is it because, unlike other groups, we are often physically separated from one another and unable to share experiences and validate perceptions? Is it because, although dis/abled persons now comprise approximately 14 % of the Canadian population (author unknown, 2002), the overwhelming majority of us live in poverty (Lee, 2000)? Is it our lack of economic clout which translates into social powerlessness? Obtaining answers to these questions will require greater resources than are available for this small research project.
Nonetheless, the query must be made. Tzedekah and Tzedek
In Hebrew, words are known by their "root", most often consisting of three letters. The words tzedekah and tzedek both derive from the verb "tz-d-k" which means to be righteous. Tzedek means "justice" or "righteousness". In modem times, the word tzedekah has been translated as "charity" in English. Commands to assist others appear in the Torah, Pirkei Avot and in the Talmud. The Torah states; "Open your hand to the poor and the needy kinsman in your land." (Deuteronomy 15:11). Rabbi Hannina states;
"Anyone whose good deeds exceed his wisdom, his wisdom will endure; but anyone whose wisdom exceeds his good deeds, his wisdom will not endure" (Pirkei Avot, 3: 12).
Rabbi Joshua ben Korkha states; "Anyone who shuts his eyes against charity is like one who worships idols" (Jerusalem Talmud, Peah, 4:20). Finally, Rabbi Assi states in the
Talmud; ''''Tzedekah is as important as all other commandments put together" (Babylonian
Talmud, Baba Bathra, 9A).
In sermons presented by modem day rabbis, tzedekah is often viewed as the equivalent of charity. However, there are significant differences in the way in which the two words are understood and practiced. Charity views recipients as either deserving or undeserving of particular forms of assistance. There are no such distinctions made when tzedekah is offered. In fact, even rich people can receive tzedekah. In secular society, only the recipient of charity is considered a beneficiary. Tzedekah, in contrast, derives ft-om the 121 notion of justice. All property and assets are viewed as coming from G-d. Therefore, there is an inherent obligation to equalize distribution of G-d's gifts. Tzedekah is not something done simply for an individual in distress. Rather, by offering tzedekah, we perform a mitzvah, a good deed, which enhances our own piety. Hence, both the recipient and the donor are considered beneficiaries.
When secular individuals donate to charity, no particular amount is required. For observant Jews, however, tzedekah is understood to be somewhere between ten per cent and twenty per cent of one's net armual income (Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot, 5OA).
This tithing of ten per cent or more applies even to those individuals who themselves receive tzedekah. From the above description, one can easily ascertain that while there are parallels between charity and tzedekah, there are also a great many distinguishing
features associated with the latter.
Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim of Lunshitz, (1550-1619) also known as Kli Yakar, explains in a
commentary that the repetition of the words, "aser, t'aser" are translated as "you shall
surely tithe" (Deuteronomy, 15:10). The Kli Yakar states that the first time the word
"aser" is used, it refers to money offered by hand. The second time the word is used, it
refers to compassion offered by both hand and mouth. We extrapolate, therefore, that tzedekah is not simply the offering of financial aid but, rather, the provision of assistance
in a sensitive and respectful way (Just-tzedekah, 2003). 122
This attention to the manner in which tzedekah is deUvered is also reflected in
Maimonides'' Ladder of Tzedakah. The Ladder highlights the preferred methods by which to assist a needy person. There are eight rungs on the Ladder, ranked fi^om the most preferred to the least preferred ways. The most preferred manner in which to help people is to offer them a way to help themselves e.g. by offering a job or a business partnership etc. The least preferred way is to give money directly to someone you know, unwillingly, with little dignity offered the recipient (Mishneh Torah, Laws Concerning Gifts to the
Poor, 10:7).
The Torah emphasizes the mitzvah of caring for the widow, the orphan and the stranger.
Characterizations of a munificent deity describe a G-d who "upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow and befnends the stranger"(Deuteronomy, 10:18). We see this concern for the widow illustrated in the Book of Ruth when Boaz allows Ruth, who has lost her husband, to glean firom his fields (Ruth 2: 17-19).
Interestingly, the Torah does not mention dis/abled people as recipients of specific forms of assistance. Today, however, according to the Tzedekah Reports web site, dis/abled 123 persons constitute approximately fifty per cent of the recipients of tzedekah from Jewish social service agencies in the United States^^. Thirty six of seventy two agencies listed as charitable organizations on the Tzedekah Reports web site provide assistance to dis/abled persons, both Jews and non-Jews. Twenty three agencies mention specific programs administered to dis/abled persons. Thirteen agencies are dedicated entirely to working with members of the dis/abled community {Tzedekah Reports, 2003).
According to the Blue Book, a comprehensive listing of social service agencies serving the Greater Toronto Area (Community Information Service of Toronto, 2003), forty organizations work specifically with members of the Jewish community. Of those forty, seventeen indicated that they administered some programs or services to dis/abled individuals and ten organizations worked exclusively with dis/abled persons. Therefore, approximately sixty seven per cent of Jewish social service agencies in the GTA serve dis/abled citizens^^. While the Torah may not have described dis/abled Jews specifically in their discussions regarding tzedekah, it is dis/abled Jews who reap its benefits.
These organizations which cater to the Jewish community more broadly do not indicate what percentage of their total clientele are dis/abled.
^ Please see previous footnote. 124
Tikkun Olam
Just as there are commandments to give tzedekah, so too are there commandments to participate in tikkun olam, the "fixing of the world". The root oi"tikkun" is the three letter word, "t-k-n", which, in modem times, is translated as "fix, repair, mend." The word is first noted in the book of Ecclesiastes (1:15, 7:13, 12:9) where it is translated as
"setting straight". The Aleinu prayer recited thrice daily, also contains the phrase "le- taken olam" which is translated "to perfect the world." Rabbi Tarfon states; "It is not your job to complete the work, nor are you fi-ee to desist from it" (Pirkei Avot 2:16).
Hillel's oft-quoted remark states; "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?" {Pirkei Avot 1:14). Hence, the notion of "fixing the world" is a Jewish concept enshrined both within liturgy and religious text.
Clearly, then, there is an obligation to be generous with one's resources and simultaneously, to act in socially responsible ways that further the course of human development. Observant Jews are expected to practice the tenets of "tikkun olam". There are certainly tensions within the Jewish community as to the manner in which such requirements are to be implemented (Bleich,1997). For example, some authorities inquire 125 as to whether Jews ought to be involved in activities that would bring them into contact with the non-Jewish community (Shatz, Waxman, & Diament, 1997).
Synagogue congregations view tikkun olam in a myriad of different ways. Some see it in the same light as tzedekah. Others distinguish tikkun olam from tzedekah and regard the former as a kind of advocacy. Upon review of twenty-two synagogue web sites which contained the words "tikkun olam", I noted that the overwhelming majority of social change efforts might easily be construed as charity. The most frequently mentioned activities involved providing food to a food bank, volunteering at a homeless shelter and assisting Habitat for Humanity in the building of homes. Other activities included donating money to Israel, visiting sick people in hospital and removing litter dumped in natural environments.
Although a few synagogue web sites did mention assisting dis/abled persons on an individual basis, not one of the tikkun olam activities emphasized accessibility or improvements in the built environment. Nor did any one site suggest education about dis/ability issues.
Rabbis interpreting the Torah assume that there is significance to every word, every letter written. Repetition of words, therefore, has hermeneutical implications. One frequently quoted phrase commands the Jewish people; "Justice, justice shall you pursue". 126
(Deuteronomy 16:20/ Nachmanides' exegetical analysis suggests that repetition of the word "justice" describes two types; one rendered by humans in a court of law and the other delivered by G-d (Chavel, 1976). We can also extrapolate from this comment that we must honour and fear G-d and simultaneously, we must honour other human beings.
We have to pursue justice with each other here on earth.
Indeed, if we are commanded to seek justice between human beings and justice between
Jews and non-Jews, are we not also required to seek justice between able-bodied and dis/abled Jews? Surely sighted Jews must provide Braille prayer books for blind Jews.
Surely hearing Jews will assist Deaf Jews by paying for interpreters. Surely Jews who have few psychological struggles will listen deeply and patiently to Jewish psychiatric survivors. Surely Jews who walk unaided will create a physical environment that eliminates all barriers for Jews who use wheelchairs. Surely justice will be pursued in the synagogue.
Tzedek / Justice
Dis/abled Jews are often viewed as recipients of tzedekah, but rarely in the context of tikkun olam. This much is evident from the focus groups, the interviews and the various web sites reviewed. When physical changes to synagogue structures are suggested, financial issues are inevitably raised. Fundraisers are the suggested solution. However, other capital expenditures receive cash directly from synagogue budgets. Why are 127 changes necessary to accommodate dis/abled persons relegated to charitable initiatives?
Why is the installation of an elaborate security system, for example, not also referred to the synagogue sisterhood? Why does safety for some people receive higher priority than safety for others? If dis/abled Jews and their needs were presented in the context of tzedek (i.e. social justice) rather than tzedekah,(\.e. charity), perhaps the synagogue ramp would have been installed long ago.
Judaism is a communal faith, ideally practiced in groups. Prayer is considered more powerful when we are part of a minyan, a group consisting of at least ten men and sometimes, women. In the early 1900's, when Eastern European Jews began arriving in
Canada, Jewish Mutual Benefit Societies were established. These organizations, comprised of people from the same city or town in the "old country", assisted newcomers to integrate into Canadian society (Speisman, 1979). Even the names of synagogues built in downtown Toronto during that period suggest a form of organization emanating from previous places of origin. The Kiever Shul, Anshei Minsk and the Narayever all hearken back to the towns in Eastern Europe whence congregants originated.
Given the emphasis on community and the synagogue as a focal point of many activities, it is crucial that dis/abled persons be able to access synagogue environments. The synagogue is not only a place of religious worship (Kaufrnan, 1999). Bar Mitzvah celebrations, weddings, funerals, lectures, conferences, protests and commemorative 128 ceremonies all take place within their walls. Excluding dis/abled Jews from synagogues is excluding us from the community. Justice for dis/abled Jews requires physical and attiutudinal accessibility, visibility of our ongoing concerns and support for continuity in our community.
Accessibility
In conversation with rabbis and board members of various synagogues, I am often asked what features would enhance the accessibility of their particular congregation. I reply that they should immediately implement changes that can be easily introduced. Then, they can focus on changes to the built enviroimient which facilitate the independence of dis/abled persons.
Synagogue committees should revise policies to ensure that when renovations are done and/or buildings are purchased, an accessibility audit is conducted. This audit would ensure that new premises welcome persons with a variety of different impairments.
Synagogues should not have to raise money for an accessible bima. The bima should be accessible by right. Just as doors and walls are considered essential components of a building, so too should accessibility provisions be considered a necessary component of any structure. An accessible bima is not a "special" feature. As one dis/abled congregant commented, "Even the language they use is condescending. Special needs. Special needs.
I am not special. They should be including everyone." 129
It is important to compile a list of all accessible synagogues in each municipality.
Creating an accessibility report with details of physical barriers would assist dis/abled persons in locating a convenient synagogue. Such a document would highlight places of worship easily accessed by persons with different impairments.
Providing such reports and necessary accommodations is only a first step. Obtaining
American Sign Language {A.S.L.) interpreters, for example, requires some discernment of individual skill and knowledge. It is crucial to ensure that interpreters hired to work during religious services are fluent in the vocabulary pertaining to the Jewish faith. It is a lengthy and cumbersome process for an interpreter to finger spell every single Hebrew word. There is at least one A.S.L. dictionary specifically designed to communicate ideas describing Judaism and its practices (Shuart, 1986).
Concepts associated with inclusive liturgy acknowledge female aspects of G-d and women's contributions to the Jewish faith (Lemer, 1994). For example, some rabbis mention in a blessing, not only the names of our male ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob, but also our female ancestors, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah. This form of ritual change contributes to the increased visibility of women.
Similar ideas could be applied to address ableist prayers that negate the value of dis/abled persons and their participation in religious life. For example, in one daily prayer, we bless 130
G-d who; "opens the eyes of the bhnd." This clearly indicates a value placed on sightedness. According to halakhic decisions, a blind person can say this blessing (Toiv,
1997) although I am not sure many would want to. One friend, a blind Jew who has recently become observant, said "When I first heard that prayer, I thought 'What am I doing here?" Perhaps in the interests of sensitivity, rabbis could include a blessing acknowledging Isaac and Leah, both of whom had low vision.
There are also benedictions such as "meshane habriyot" ("Blessed art thou.. .who makes creatures different") which is said infrequently. This particular blessing, uttered upon seeing a person with an impairment from birth (Marx, 2002) is oppressive and renders dis/abled people less than able bodied people. The emphasis in the articulation of such a prayer is on the visible impairment rather than on the often invisible social conditions which perpetuate dis/ability.
Ultimately, it is attitudes that need to change. For example, both dis/abled and able- bodied persons can be viewed as "dependent". Able-bodied persons usually require technology such as telephones or computers in order to communicate with others. What is the difference between able-bodied persons' dependence on the aforementioned items and dis/abled persons' dependence on speech synthesizers? Technological aids assist individuals to converse, albeit in different ways. 131
Visibility
Many synagogues invite speakers to present information to their congregation. When considering public forums, rabbis should insist that a dis/ability perspective be integrated into the presentation. For example, include dis/abled persons as lecturers during
Holocaust Education Week and ensure that dis/ability issues are covered.
Larger synagogues have libraries for use by their members. Ensure that material regarding dis/ability is available. Contact the Jewish Braille Institute and assist patrons in borrowing books. Subscribe to large print editions of popular publications. Have wide aisles and books on display at wheelchair height.
During sermons, mention that Moses spoke with difficulty, that King Saul was often depressed, Tobit was blind and that Jacob walked with a limp. Make visible the impairments of the biblical leadership. Just as women must hear the stories of Shifra and
Puah, and as lesbians appreciate the intense love of Ruth and Naomi (Alpert, 1994), so too must dis/abled persons realize the power of Moses and others like him. 132
Continuity
Among Jews in all denominations, there is much discussion regarding the rate at which members of our community are assimilating into secular society. Although no statistics appear to be available, I would speculate that the rate of assimilation of dis/abled Jews is likely much higher than that of able-bodied Jews. Given the history of institutionalization, the segregation from members of our own community, the lack of accessibility to the buildings in which many public events take place, it would not be surprising to determine that, in fact, many dis/abled Jews no longer identify with their co religionists. Frederick Schrieber, a Deaf Jewish leader, wrote;
"My sons were Bar Mitzvah but they never had the social or religious contacts which lead to regular attendance at temple. At this time, two of my children have married Gentiles. The other two will probably do the same. This hurts. Whether he attends temple or not, whether he is Deaf or not, a Jewish boy who grows up in a Jewish household is still a Jew" (Schreiber, 1970, p. 36).
In order to stem the tide of cultural and spiritual alienation, educational programs administered in synagogues should accommodate dis/abled children. Rabbis of all denominations have insisted that we educate dis/abled children even if they will not
"count" in a traditional minyan as adults (David, 2001; Schneerson, 2001; CCAR
Committee on Justice and Peace, 2000). 133
A number of Conservative and Reform synagogues have developed "special" educational programs for dis/abled children. Instead of enforcing segregation, the Jewish community should create an integrated program. Teachers should assist dis/abled students the same way they assist other students. If specific forms of accommodation are required, perhaps an integration facilitator could be hired, not to "assess" children or plan alternative events, but rather to ensure that dis/abled students are treated fairly.
Unfortunately, special education teachers, by virtue of their own training, locate the problem of dis/ability within the corpus of a child. An integration facilitator addresses the systemic barriers to inclusion and locates the problem of access within the larger society.
An ideological framework which focuses on the liberation of dis/abled persons has a profoundly different analysis and outcome than one which sees the dis/ability itself as the problem.
Instead of providing "special" education for the child, create accessibility education for the able-bodied population. Instead of moving rituals to accessible locations, renovate synagogues so persons with various impairments can enter houses of prayer with ease.
The percentage of unaffiliated Jews increases each year. Synagogues must seek innovative ways to increase their membership base. Currently, many dis/abled children live with able-bodied parents that could conceivably pay membership dues. This financial consideration may be one reason why there is so little outreach to dis/abled adults. The 134 perception that adults with impairments live in poverty means that subsidies would be necessary. Dis/abled adults would, therefore, be a financial drain on a congregation rather than a source of income.
Although some argue that a lack of outreach to dis/abled adults merely reflects adherence to "pediatric Judaism", the belief that religion is just for children, one can also count numerous outreach efforts in the Jewish community directed towards adults. Aish
Hatorah^^, Chabad Lubavitch^^, and Kollel^^ are all Jewish religious organizations with outreach programs directed specifically at Jewish adults. Efforts are focused on encouraging unafGliated Jews to return to some form of religious observance. Of the abovementioned organizations, only Kollel explicitly welcomes dis/abled Jews. Its facilities are wheelchair accessible, zxxA.S.L. interpreter is available at public functions and material is provided in large print upon request. Kollel's willingness to reach out to dis/abled Jews stands in sharp contrast to the lack of response of the other organizations.
Aish Hatorah is a Modem Orthodox organization with outreach programs for Jewish adults interested in traditional Jewish religious observance. ^ Chabad Lubavitch is a Chassidic organization with outreach programs for Jewish adults interested in traditional Jewish religious observance. ^ Kollel is a Reform Jewish organization with outreach programs for Jewish adults interested in more liberal Jewish observance. Final Considerations
It is evident from the research conducted and the reHgious texts cited above, that dis/abled persons are excluded from many aspects of synagogue life. The built environment and the religious strictures governing various impairments conspire to reinforce experiences of profound alienation. Indeed, how would one function as a blind person, prohibited from taking a guide dog into the sanctuary, unable to read directly from the Torah to the congregation without an intermediary, often unable to access a prayerbook in Braille? Why would one even continue to attend the synagogue?
Nonetheless, a number of observant blind Jews with whom I am acquainted do continue their affiliation with a place of worship, despite the hardships imposed. Clearly, there is meaning in the communion with G-d and with other Jews.
It appears, however, that changes are required. Not only must the "bricks and mortar" perspective, so common among congregants, give greater credence to attitudinal accessibility. There must also be a corresponding paradigm shift. Dis/abled Jews are not simply recipients of tzedekah. We are the subjects of tikkun olam, social justice. The
framework in which we are ideologically constructed must change. Accessibility is cause, not for a fundraiser, but for political protest. The needs of dis/abled Jews should be indicated as a line item on an annual budget. We must be integrated in black ink. 136
Afterword
The research project described in this document has concluded. My commitment to the issues remains. During the last three years, I have discussed dis/ability issues frequently amongst Jews. The consciousness exists. The creation of accessible synagogue environments is within reach.
Once, members of a congregation considered writing a petition, advocating on behalf of dis/abled friends. No meeting ever took place. However, the congregation's newsletter published a month later prominently displayed an article focused on dis/ability. Co incidence? Perhaps.
More recently, one woman who uses a walker attended a community frinction with her family. When she discovered that the synagogue elevator was broken, she refused to climb the staircase, explaining she'd had "enough". I was surprised, but pleased. A dis/abled woman demanded an accessible environment and synagogue administrators were called to task. After hearing about such incidents, I feel optimistic that change is possible among Jews, no matter the denominational affiliation.
This project may ultimately contribute to community change. It most certainly contributed to my own growth and intellectual understanding. Initially, I had conceived 137 of accessibility strictly as a structural dilemma to be resolved by architectural solutions.
Now, I realize that accessibility begins in the hearts and minds of all community members. Removing barriers to participation is a social as well as physical challenge.
I originally imagined that congregational change would take place as a result of loud protest. I was surprised that "rumours" of a petition merited an administrative response.
Furthermore, cultural norms among Jews vary. Not many synagogue members would be as comfortable as I at a demonstration. I realized that social justice manifests in a myriad of ways.
Because North American society is profoundly secular, urban planners have not often considered faith based congregations potential vehicles for social change.
However, synagogues rooted in the communities they serve offer opportunities to pursue social justice. It is only for the willing to begin. 138 Appendix 1
Workshop Outline
Time Item
5 Introductions
(consent, names, why are you here?)
5 Agenda Review
10 What is disability?
20 How is synagogue accessible to disabled people?
20 How is synagogue inaccessible to disabled people?
15 What can be done?
15 Questions & Answers
5 Feedback 139
Appendix 2
Feedback Form
Was this workshop helpful?
Yes No Maybe
Why?
What did you like about the workshop?
What would you do differently? 140 Appendix 3 (a)
Flip Chart Notes: Chayei Torah focus group
What is a Disability?
Anything that prevents people from fitting into society at large
People who take barriers and challenges and overcome barriers
People who need to use a different way of reaching goals
Disability can be psychiatric, intellectual, social, racial
Just like sexism and racism
May not be " disability" to everyone-use strengths to deal with issues in another way
Now kids with disabilities are integrated, not like before
Toronto now multicultural, not same barriers for people of colour
Important to consider language used to describe people i.e. do not use " hearing impaired". That means something is wrong with us. We use "Deaf or hard of hearing."
Integration is a choice-in mainstream schools,
Deaf and hard of hearing kids have difficulty communicating with hearing kids.
How is Chayei Torah accessible to disabled persons?
Rabbi is caring and compassionate
Makes people feel wanted, he sets the tone
We have a ramp, bathroom facilities 141 We have a.s.l. interpreters when needed
Welcoming committee, welcoming congregation
Flexibility i.e. because the holy ark is not wheelchair accessible.
Rabbi brings Torah down to the bima during a bar/bat mitzvah
Building is all on one level
How is Chayei Torah not accessible?
Steps to bima and aron hakodesh are not ideally set up.
Difficult to distinguish steps. Someone with low vision fell and broke her hip.
Colours of steps, all light grey, problem for people with low vision and those with perceptual problems
When synagogues are designed, they do not consider or consult with people with disabilities. That is just like a male architect designing a kitchen.
Kids make noise-may have attention or psychological problems-shul not as tolerant of noise-no junior congregation
There are adolescents who could babysit during service-maybe have special activity
Space is limiting-should install basement ;would create a space for daycare
TO BE DONE:
1) Childcare program during service
2) Interpreters for Hebrew school 142 Deaf kids do not understand
Orthodox Jewish school for deaf for boys only-no school for girls
("where is school for girls?"-"not necessary-they're all cooking!")
(apparently interpreters are provided for kids at Reform Sunday school)
3) Conduct A.S.L. class for parents while kids are in Hebrew school
4) possible installation of porch lift(??)
5) Other shul has Braille and large print prayer books
We should get some especially for high holidays
6) adult bathrooms in school for kids. Building code considers adult dimensions forgetting that there are children who use wheelchairs as well.
7) Install f.m. systems-expensive
8) Create budget for accommodations
9) Not great at fundraising? Methods?
10) change, alter, vary colour of carpet
11) A.S.L. interpreting is an ongoing cost, not capital expenditure
12) A.S.L. is a language just like Hebrew, one has to be qualified to interpret-takes three or four years to receive accreditation, graduate from course. Therefore, not practical to ask for volunteers
13) General budgeting difficult, is there possible government funding?
14) Wheeltrans and some TTC routes in area have buses that lower platforms. However, bus drivers do not always know how to use them or sometimes lowering mechanism is broken
15) Some Go trains are wheelchair accessible -but have to arrange schedule in advance 143
16) CNIB-not a lot of deaf-blind-where are they?? 144
Appendix 3 (b)
Flip Chart Notes: Anshei Plotsk Focus Group
What's a Disability?
Limitation
Advantage
Not normal
Handicap
Inability to do something
Inconvenience
Relative
Painful
Not able
Differently able
Restricted 145
Being unable to swim in Hawaii is a disability
Cultural
Opinion
Situational
Obstacle
Challenge
Frame of Mind
Hardship
Physical
Emotional
Intellectual
Spiritual
Social
A fish that doesn't know how to swim is a disabled fish 146 Question: Is every phobia a disability?
How is Anshei Plotsk accessible to disabled persons?
There is always Hatzoloh around
Raised money for oxygen for people with breathing problems
Congregants should take first aid lessons
There is not a purposeful non-welcoming
There are lots of meshugenes at synagogue
Lengthy discussion about meshugenes
How is Anshei Plotsk inaccessible to disabled persons?
Kid with walker
No accommodation
Architect consultant
Specific recommendations to make building more accessible
Elevator in house
Get help from Loblaws
Need 104 feet for ramp
External elevator or lift 147 Older women can not get up the stairs
Not worth it to change for a few old women (sarcastic?)
Put mehitza for women on second floor
Ruining kids' lives by labeling them a.d.d.
Even if label is correct, not good to label
Ritalin, high correlation between drug and later substance abuse
Wheelchairs can not get in
I have a phobia, I am crazy, they let me in
People with speech impediment, visual impairment can get in
We carry wheelchairs up the stairs
Even with a stroller, they don't help you
In the U.S., they have a law
Building was built before the law required access
We don't throw them out
What's a meshugene?
Person wears all buttons
It's a disability
Persons may have a disability, but may not handicap them
Disability is deviation from average in society
Everyone's a deviation
Giftedness is a deviation too, but not disability 148 Physically or mentally challenged
Suggestions
Make synagogues peanut free
Kids feel left out if can't eat food
Parents just buy food wherever
Allergy is a disability
Put ramp for wheelchairs and strollers
Sabbath elevator
Chair lift
A.S.L. interpreter for Deaf people change food suppliers order from peanut-free bakery kids need friends with same disability someone to welcome new people at services money needed to make necessary changes classrooms 149
Glossary
Ableism: The oppression of dis/abled persons. Similar to sexism and racism, ableism can operate on both an individual and systemic basis. For example, a psychiatric survivor can be denied the right to rent an apartment by a landlord. The denial of the apartment takes place between two individuals. However, psychiatric survivors as a group are often automatically referred to boarding homes upon discharge from a psychiatric facility. In this case, the denial of private rental accommodation takes place systemically. Both of the above situations are examples of ableism. Psychiatric survivors are denied their preferred form of housing because of their impairment or dis/ability.
Accessible: Convenient, easy to use. Applies to both physical environment and social milieu.
Accessible Design: Term used interchangeably with universal design.
American Sign Language (A.S.L.): The language of Deaf people living in North America.
Aron hakodesh: Holy ark in synagogue where Torah scrolls are stored; located near eastern wall, facing Jerusalem.
Ashkenazi: "Ashkenaz" in Hebrew refers to Germany. In modem usage, Ashkenazi describes Jews of Eastern and Western European origin.
Bar/Bat Mitzvah: Literally son or daughter of the commandment(s). Refers to the occasion when a boy or girl reaches the age of majority and accepts responsibility for observance of religious rites.
Barrier Free Design: An arrangement of space which eliminates barriers to accessibility. For example, placing a ramp beside a staircase would constitute barrier free design. However, this term is necessarily distinguished from universal design which advocates the creation of one space equally usable by everyone.
Bima: Reader's platform; space in synagogue where Torah is placed when it is read. In older European synagogues, bima is located in centre of building. In modem North American synagogues, bima is often at front of building, close to the holy ark.
B.C.E.: Before the Common Era, another way to say "B.C."
C.E. -. Common Era, another way to say "A.D.". 150
Conservative: Denomination of Judaism whose adherents believe that majority, but not all, traditional rules and regulations should be observed. Musical instruments are not permitted in a Conservative synagogue on the Sabbath, but men and women sit together.
Conversos: Jews who lived in Spain and Portugal during the inquisition and converted to Christianity to escape death, but practiced Judaism secretly.
Close captioning: Spoken words are typewritten and projected onto a screen. Deaf and hard of hearing individuals can read the conversation. The machines used to provide close captioning depend on electricity and hence are not permitted in Conservative or Orthodox congregations on the Sabbath. Writing is also a prohibited activity on the Sabbath.
C.N.I.B. Canadian Institute for the Blind; A service organization providing assistance to those with visual impairments.
Dis/ability: A social construct, similar to race, gender and class, which emphasizes physical / mental impairments as categories of social exclusion; also refers to the social and attitudinal barriers that people with impairments experience.
Eruv: String or wire placed often along hydro poles. The wires surround Jewish neighbourhoods, symbohcally creating distinct Sabbath space. Most, but not all. Orthodox Jews accept the use of an eruv.
Family Purity: Laws relating to the separation of husband and wife during and immediately after menstruation.
FM system: Assistive listening device used by persons who are hard of hearing.
Gemara: An addition to the Mishnah. Although there is only one Mishnah, there are two Gemarot. The Yerushalmi was developed in Israel; the Bavli was developed in Babylon. They supplement the Mishnah with biblical expositions and are a source of history and legend.
GO buses: G O. Government of Ontario. Intercity buses serving the Greater Toronto Area and the outlying areas.
Halakha: Jewish religious law.
Hannukah: Holiday commemorating a miracle which took place during the time of the second temple. Also known as the Festival of Lights.
Hassidism: A mystical form of Orthodox Judaism begun in the 1700's in Eastern Europe. Men wear distinctive garb including black hats, long fringes appearing like strands 151
of string, beards, and sometimes, long earlocks. Married women wear head coverings such as wigs. All women wear clothes which cover their elbows and knees.
Hatzoloh: Organization providing volunteer ambulance service to the Jewish community.
Impairment: A difficulty with physical, emotional or cognitive function.
Inclusion: The physical, social and emotional involvement of dis/abled persons in locations and organizations previously reserved exclusively for able bodied individuals.
Integration: The physical presence of dis/abled persons in locations previously reserved for able bodied individuals.
Kashrut: Jewish dietary laws.
Kiddush: Refreshments served at synagogue after prayer.
Kli Yakar (1550-1619) Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim of Lunshitz became the spiritual leader in Prague. He wrote a commentary on the Pentateuch which is still published today.
Kosher. In compliance with Jewish dietary laws; in conformity with religious requirements.
Maimonides: (1138-1204) Major medieval rabbi, physician, scientist and philosopher. Maimonides was bom in Spain, escaped persecution by fleeing to Morocco and later settled in Egypt. He wrote a law code entitled the Mishneh Torah as well as a famous philosophical literary work. Guide to the Perplexed.
Medical model: A view of dis/ability which explains oppression by focusing on the impairment. For example, one might say; "That wheelchair user is in trouble because he cannot walk."
Mehitza: Separation between men and women in an Orthodox synagogue which consists of a dividing wall, a curtain, or an upper gallery on the second floor of a building.
Meshugenes: Yiddish pejorative colloquial term; refers to "crazy" people.
Mentsch: Yiddish colloquial term; refers to "good person".
Mezuzah: A small narrow amulet containing biblical texts usually put on the doorposts of Jewish homes.
Midrash: A major body of Torah commentary. 152
Mikvah: Bath in synagogue provided for purposes of ritual immersion; some Orthodox men attend each day as a matter of piety; Orthodox women attend once monthly as a matter of religious law.
Minyan: Quorum of ten men (and sometimes, women) needed to pray in communal worship.
Mishnah: Ancient code of Jewish law collated, edited and revised by Rabbi Judah Hanasi at the beginning of the third century C.E.. The work is the authoritative legal tradition of the early sages and is the basis of legal discussions of the Talmud.
Mitzvah: Literally, a "commandment"; pi. mitzvot: One of the six hundred thirteen commandments given by G-d to the Jewish People, or colloquially, any good deed.
Mizrachi: Literally, "eastern". The term refers to Jews of African or Asian descent.
Nachmanides: (1195-1270) During his lifetime, Nachmanides was world renowned as an expert in Jewish religious law. He was bom in Spain and later moved to Israel. His biblical commentaries were the first to incorporate mystical teachings.
Orthodox: Denomination of Judaism whose adherents believe that all traditional rules and regulations should be strictly adhered to today. For example, in an Orthodox synagogue men and women sit separately, no musical instruments are played on the Sabbath and the liturgy is read almost exclusively in Hebrew.
Parnas: Synagogue leader, sometimes, president of congregation.
Parochet: Curtain or second door within the holy ark; must be moved to access Torah scrolls.
Pirkei Avot: Literally, "Ethics of the fathers". One of the books of the Mishnah. A collection of writings focused on moral, ethical and philosophical teachings.
Pogrom: An organized massacre of Jews, generally with the knowledge of authorities.
Reconstuctionist: Denomination of Judaism whose adherents believe that Judaism is not a religion but an evolving civilization and that Jews are not the "chosen" people per se, but one nation among the multitudes, hi a Reconstructionist synagogue, men and women sit together. The liturgy is a mix of English and Hebrew.
Reform: Denomination of Judaism whose adherents believe that the majority of traditional rules and regulations mentioned in the Torah are not relevant to observance of Judaism today. In a Reform synagogue, there is sometimes an organ, men and women sit together and the majority of the liturgy is in English rather than Hebrew. 153
Responsum: A formal reply issued by rabbis in response to questions of religious significance.
Sabbath: Day of rest for observant Jews; starts at sundown Friday night and ends sundown Saturday night.
Sephardi: "Sepharad" in Hebrew refers to Spain. "Sephardi" describes Jews of Spanish / Portuguese origin. In modem Israel, "Sephardi" also refers to Jews of African and Asian origin.
Social model: A view of dis/ability which explains oppression by focusing on social and political conditions. For example, one might say "That wheelchair user is in trouble because the building's architect did not incorporate universal design principles."
Sages : The rabbis of the Talmudic period.
Shifra and Puah: Two midwives in ancient Egypt who, according to the Bible, defied Pharoah's order to kill all male babies. They saved many lives despite the danger to their own.
Shoah: another word for Holocaust
Shtetl: Yiddish; a small village in Eastern Europe, before World War Two, primarily inhabited by Jews.
Siddur: Prayer book for Jews.
Tallit: Ritual shawl used at prayer.
Talmud: The Mishnah and the Gemara combined.
Tardive dyskenisia: A mobility impairment caused by long term use of neuroleptic drugs. Psychiatric survivors may lose control of mouth muscles or partial use of their limbs as a result.
Temple: The first Temple was built by King Solomon (956 B.C.E.) and destroyed by the Babylonians (586 B.C.E.). The second Temple was built by Haggai and Zechariah (516 B.C.E.) and destroyed by the Romans (70 C.E.).
Thorazine: an anti-psychotic drug.
Tikkun olam: Hebrew expression; literally, "fixing the world"; term used by Jews to emphasize roots of social justice within context of Jewish faith. 154
Torah: Hebrew Bible; the five books of Moses; Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. Also refers to the Torah scroll read in synagogue.
Tzedek: Justice, righteousness.
Tzedekah: Charity, financial or other forms of assistance offered in a Jewish religious context.
Tzitzit: Ritual fringed undergarment worn by Jewish males.
Unaffiliated: Term describes individuals who are Jewish by birth but are not affiliated with any particular synagogue or religious movement.
Universal design: Products or buildings that are usable by all people to the greatest extent possible without the need for adaptation or specialized design.
Washing cup: Cup with two handles, used by Orthodox Jews during ritual hand washing.
Yad: Hebrew, literally, a "hand". The yad is an instrument which features an outstretched finger; used as a pointer during Torah reading.
Yarmulke: Ritual head covering for Jewish males. 155
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