A deaf-blind participant explores his Jewish identity on a recent trip to Israel. Courtesy of Yael Zelinger
Here’s a thought experiment. Describe our Jewish life, capturing the experience to share with another. Not easy, right? Now imagine doing so without referencing any visual or auditory experiences.
So much of our concept of belonging is woven from threads of shared experiences that come to us through our eyes and ears: the melodies of Kabbalat Shabbat, the energy of a packed shul, the call of the shofar or the flickering light of candles. Jewish life is a rich tapestry of sound, sight and communal gathering. But what does inclusion mean for Jews who can neither see nor hear?
“Deaf-blindness is so much more than the individual limitations of deafness and blindness,” explains Yael Zelinger, coordinator of the Jewish DeafBlind Experience through the Jewish Connection Network, based in Baltimore, Maryland. Those lacking one of the two “distance senses” can still take in information passively by virtue of the other. Deaf-blindness is a condition distinct from the sum of its parts. “Communication of any sort has to be focused and intensely intentional.”
For those who take in information only or mostly through touch, scent and taste, life in a room buzzing with hundreds of people can be silent, sightless waiting. Information absorbed passively by hearing and sighted people—the mood of a room, the direction of traffic, a passing comment—is completely lost. Most of the deaf-blind population—estimates indicate there are approximately 40,000 people in the United States who are deaf-blind—use tactile sign language, where they feel the signs of others.
“Deaf-blind people don’t get information about what’s going on in the world unless you make the effort to tell them,” says Rabbi Yehoshua Soudakoff, a rabbi for the deaf community and founder of the Israeli nonprofit organization Chushim Ben Dan. “When we take the extra mile and give them access to the information they are so thirsty for, it makes an incredible difference,” says the rabbi who is deaf himself.
About 50 percent of people in the deaf-blind community have Usher syndrome, a genetic condition in which a person is born deaf or hard of hearing and later loses vision due to retinitis pigmentosa (RP), or is born with normal hearing and later loses both hearing and vision. Other causes of deaf-blindness include birth trauma, optic nerve atrophy, cataracts, glaucoma, macular degeneration, and diabetic retinopathy. Some individuals are born with dual impairments, while others become deaf-blind through illness or injury.
In general settings, people with deaf-blindness rely heavily on Support Service Providers (SSPs), individuals who serve as their eyes and ears, describing the environment to them through tactile sign language, signing into their hands or using descriptive touch, like drawing diagrams of the room on their back.
How do deaf-blind Jews experience Jewish life?
Jewish life is a rich tapestry of sound, sight and communal gathering. But what does inclusion mean for Jews who can neither see nor hear?
Enter Zelinger, one of a dedicated group of Jewish individuals determined to fill the world of Jewish deaf-blind individuals with authentic Jewish experiences. Fifteen years ago, Rabbi Eliezer Lederfeind of the Orthodox Union’s Our Way, a longstanding program for the deaf Jewish community, was running one of his popular Shabbatons. A deaf-blind man named Jeff attended, but as the weekend unfolded, Rabbi Lederfeind realized that Jeff was unable to fully participate. An American Sign Language (ASL) interpreter stood at the front of the room, but for a man who was both deaf and blind, a visual language presented from a distance was as inaccessible as a spoken lecture.
Rabbi Lederfeind reached out to Zelinger and Dr. Sheryl Cooper, founder of the Deaf Studies program at Towson University, who has since retired and now co-leads DeafBlind events with Zelinger as a volunteer. This was the genesis of an initiative that is the only one of its kind in the world: a program dedicated not just to supporting deaf-blind Jews, but to actively bringing Judaism to them.
The work of Zelinger, who has a master’s degree in deaf education, and the many volunteers who come together to create programs is a masterclass in creative, multisensory Jewish experience. Their Shabbatons and trips, like the recent special DeafBlind mission to Israel, are not about narrating the world to participants; they are about facilitating firsthand experience. The question driving every activity is: Can it be touched, tasted or felt?
The group of six deaf-blind Jews visiting Israel on the most recent trip enjoyed thrilling days packed with activity—experiencing the Land in unique ways. Inclusion meant a visit to the Biblical Museum of Natural History where special permission was granted to touch the taxidermy animals mentioned in the Torah, stroking the mane of a lion and poking the eyes of a jackal. A tour through a winery was accessed through smell, taste and touch.
Zelinger arranged for a challah bake, where participants didn’t just learn the berachah; they kneaded and braided the dough, their hands learning the texture and life of the tradition. “Everything was experiential,” she stresses. “I don’t want it to be secondhand. . . . It was about asking: What could they do; what could they experience firsthand?” A Shabbat dinner can be filled with animated discussion and conversation—all conducted in tactile ASL, the room silent.
“I was given the chance to explore my identity as a Jewish deaf-blind person,” one participant wrote after the Israel trip. “It was incredibly rewarding, instilling me with strength, confidence and a sense of comfort. . . . It has built lasting memories that I will cherish forever.”
The level of support required for such a Shabbaton is staggering. For a Shabbaton with fifteen to twenty deaf-blind participants, a team of nearly sixty-five additional people—including rotating SSPs, coordinators and volunteers—is needed to provide the necessary one-on-one facilitation. On the trip to Israel, transitions from place to place—on and off the bus, or to another activity—require far more than a simple announcement.
This intense intentionality fosters a profound bond. “Human interaction touches them in a deeper way,” notes Rabbi Soudakoff. The constant tactile connection of sign language on the palm or back is not just a way to communicate, but a real social connection. For many participants who may feel isolated in their daily lives, these gatherings are a powerful antidote to loneliness. And for the interpreters and volunteers, the experience is equally transformative.
The experience of the deaf-blind community raises a deeper question: What does inclusion actually mean? “Sometimes, integration within a regular framework is a good idea,” says Dr. Cooper. “They want to be part of society. They want to be able to go to events.” With interpreters and guides, they can fully access and appreciate the environment.
But it isn’t always beneficial to integrate deaf-blind individuals into a typical event. “At times they prefer to do things with other deaf-blind people,” she says. When Zelinger and Dr. Cooper were planning the trip to Israel, they were offered grant money to have deaf-blind participants join a Birthright trip as part of a larger group, but they declined.
“The speed of a group trip is far too fast for deaf-blind people to enjoy,” Dr. Cooper explains. “You can’t give them twenty minutes to go shopping in the Cardo. They walk more slowly; they need to touch things. We need to have a trip planned at our pace.”
Ultimately, Zelinger’s goal is to create spaces where deaf-blind Jews can engage with Jewish life on their own terms.
“You can live a perfectly satisfying life as a deaf-blind person,” says Dr. Cooper. “You can have friends, you can have a spouse, you can have fun activities and you can have a community.”
Yitzchok Landa is a US Air Force chaplain and co-rabbi at Congregation Rodef Sholom of Atlantic City, New Jersey, who writes and lectures extensively on fascinating Jewish topics.
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The Language of the Soul: Judaism for the Deaf-Blind by Yitzchok Landa