Parashat Emor: A Disability Perspective
by Jason Lieberman
I love Torah, every parsha, the only exception, and there is an exception to every rule, which was, for a long time, Parashat Emor.
In Vayikra (Leviticus) chapter 21:16 - 21:21 it says:
16 Hashem spoke to Moses, saying: 17 to Aaron, saying: any of your offspring throughout the generations in whom there will be a blemish shall not come near to offer the food of his God.18 for any man whom there is a blemish shall not approach a man who is blind or lame, whose nose has no bridge or who has leg one longer than the other;19 or, in whom there will be a broken leg or broken arm; 24 who has abnormally long eyebrows or a membrane on his eye, or a blemish in his eye, or a dry skin, eruption, or a moist skin eruption, or crushed testicles.
This seems to be a complete and utter departure from the rest of the Torah, which encourages including those who are strangers and therefore, strange to the people around them. It bothered me. It annoyed me. I could not get my head around the contradiction.
Everything came to a head in 2005, when I was working for Yachad, an Orthodox Jewish organization, which is dedicated to disability inclusion. When a friend with muscular dystrophy was visiting Englewood, New Jersey, as part of a Yachad event during Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. The senior rabbi at the synagogue, who had welcomed us warmly the year before, was not there. He was on sabbatical. The assistant rabbi, quoting this part of Emor, insisted my friend was not permitted to give the Priestly blessing in his role as a priest, because of his muscular dystrophy and the fact that he uses a wheelchair. He was much more mature than I. He simply went to the row behind where the Rabbi sat and gave the rest of us the Priestly Blessing. After services, I argued with the Rabbi that these Pasukim, if other non-visible objections did not disqualify another Kohen from giving the Priestly Blessing, should not disqualify him.
Two years later, my friend was on his deathbed, and against doctors’ advice, he insisted on going to synagogue to give the Priestly Blessing on the last days of Passover. It was his favorite Jewish activity, and he knew that most likely, it would be his last opportunity to fulfill the blessing passed down from generation to generation in his family. He could barely talk, yet he gave the blessing, and you could hear a pin drop in the synagogue. This was the community he had grown up. The synagogue in which his bar mitzvah was held. Everyone knew how important it was for him to get this blessing and for them to receive it. Everyone wanted to hear his blessing, and reportedly they did. He passed away a few weeks later.
Five years later, I was at a different synagogue, on Rosh Hashanah, and the only Kohen at the service I was attending refused to go up for the Priestly Blessing because he had laryngitis. The senior Rabbi was summoned from upstairs and said he could and should refuse, being new to the community. A Rabbi, committed to inclusion, he just contradicted a colleague from a few blocks away five years earlier. That is when I learned about the Gamara 24B
…The Gemara asks: Wasn’t there a certain priest with this condition in the neighborhood of Rav Huna, and he would spread his hands and recite the Priestly Benediction? The Gemara answers: That priest was a familiar figure in his town. Since the other residents were accustomed to seeing him, he would not draw their attention during the Priestly Benediction. This is also taught in a baraita: One whose eyes run should not lift his hands to recite the Priestly Benediction, but if he is a familiar figure in his town, he is permitted to do so…
Thus, if a Kohen is known in the community, he can perform the priestly blessing. That puts the onus on the community. If a physical disability is not a distraction, there is no limitation. It is up to the community to look beyond a person’s disability to their intent and ability. It is not the disability but the community’s reaction and potential distraction that is disqualifying. If our community is integrated and inclusive of people with disabilities, then we can be blessed to be blessed by the Kohanim with disabilities. Only when a community is fully inclusive, that is, fully integrated with people with disabilities like that of my friend, can we fully reach our true potential as a community.
Jason Lieberman was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy at the age of 11 months. He finally came to terms with his disability in the eighth grade and began running sensitivity training programs for his teachers and fellow students. While an undergraduate student at The George Washington University, Jason seriously began exploring the relationship between the two communities in which he was a part, the Jewish community, and the disability community.
In 2001, Jason joined the board of Matan: Reshaping Jewish Communities Through Disability Inclusion, most recently serving as its treasure until stepping off the board in 2013, and rejoining the board in 2025. In 2001, Jason also joined the UJA-Federation of New York Task Force on Disability on which he still serves.
In 2013, Jason was named one of the New York community’s 36 Under 36 by the New York Jewish Week, a list of 36 young leaders in the New York Jewish Community who have dared to challenge conventional thinking and follow their inner compass.
He continues to be a sought-after pubic speaker, who has spoken in various venues throughout the United States and abroad for over 20 years. He lives in New York City with his wife Emily and son Ruby.
