Dedicated to Rabbi Moshe Dovid and Mrs. Leah Winner, devoted parents of Yisroel. In honor of his first birthday.
Sponsored by Yisroel’s loving aunt and uncle.

By Menachem Yakobovitch

Young Nechemia Vogel felt lost and unsure of what to do. He was a bochur at the yeshiva in Brunoy, France, when his younger sister, who lived at home in England, was diagnosed with autism. Her situation and his inability to truly communicate with her deeply troubled him, and he had a strong desire to help. But what could he do for her in his situation?

Not long after, in 5731, he stood at the doorway of the Rebbe’s room. It was his first time entering yechidus alone, without his parents. In a note he handed to the Rebbe, he used the opportunity to pour out his heart, describing his personal matters and also asking his question: What can I do for my sister, at least on a spiritual level?

“For my part,” Rabbi Vogel later recalled, “I thought the Rebbe would give me some kind of special segulah, perhaps to say Tehilim for her, or some similar instruction to help her situation.”

In those days, the yechidus’n for young students were very brief. The Rebbe’s answer to his question was a single sentence, one that surprised him and changed his perspective completely.

After leaving the Rebbe’s room, he wrote the answer as he remembered it. He then submitted it to one of the Rebbe’s mazkirim, and the Rebbe reviewed and corrected it personally.

The Rebbe had answered as follows:

“Regarding what you write about your sister, since you are a yeshiva student, you must be active in matters connected to yeshiva. You should add in your study, and have more chayus in the study of both Nigleh and Chassidus, and also learn with deeper understanding. Through this, you will reach the depth of your sister.”

“In this response,” Rabbi Vogel explained, “the Rebbe was emphasizing that my sister had a deeper dimension that wasn’t visible on the surface. Through learning Torah, I could connect to that inner depth and have a meaningful influence on her. The path to reaching her was through deepening my own learning, which was my primary responsibility at that stage in life.”

A Special Connection with Hashem

“The Rebbe chose these words very deliberately,” shares Rabbi Eliyahu Wolf, shliach in Cholon and himself a father of a child with special needs. “When we compare Rabbi Vogel’s story with other answers the Rebbe gave to family members of children with special needs, as well as with letters and talks on the subject, a clear picture emerges of the Rebbe’s unique approach to these children.”

The Rebbe’s perspective in every area of life is unique. His view of every Jew, and especially every Jewish child, is singular. And when it comes to children with special needs, this is even more pronounced.

Beyond natural human compassion, as the shepherd of Klal Yisroel who is concerned for every Jew regardless of their state, the Rebbe saw inward, into the essence of the child, a place where every Jewish child is equal.

While the body may be different or limited in some way, the child’s neshama is pure and whole. The nefesh elokis of these children is the same as that of any other Jew, and in some sense even higher. And therefore, it requires everything that any other Jewish child’s neshama requires.

Rabbi Wolf, who has authored several works on the Rebbe’s Torah, recently published a new book presenting the Rebbe’s outlook on children with special needs and his approach to their care. Beyond the many sichos and letters of the Rebbe on this complex subject, the book’s most moving section includes first-hand accounts of encounters between these children and their parents and the Rebbe and the special guidance they received.

Yosef Melubani, a well-known chazan who lived in England, is one example. During his stays in the United States, he was a frequent visitor to the Rebbe.

On one occasion, when he passed before the Rebbe during a Sunday Dollars, he is seen on video telling the Rebbe, among other things: “We have another son who, unfortunately, is not healthy. He is, as they say in English, autistic.”

The Rebbe asked, “How old is he now?” Yosef replied, “He is already twenty-two. He studies in a special Jewish institution in England, but he needs blessings and divine assistance.”

The Rebbe gives him a dollar to give to tzedaka on behalf of the son, and then adds, “Autism doesn’t mean they don’t connect to anyone. They may not relate in the usual way to other people, but their connection to Hashem is just like everyone else’s, and even greater. Since they are not occupied with people, they are occupied with their connection to Hashem.”

Yosef was visibly moved, and he then told the Rebbe that on one occasion, he recited a bracha with his son, and that his son had a special fondness for kissing tzitzis. The Rebbe listened attentively and suggested placing a pushka in the boy’s room, to remind visitors to give tzedaka and thereby increase his merits.

The name of the new book in Hebrew is “Haggeneralim Sheli,” “My Generals.” The source of the name is the Rebbe’s own description of children with Down syndrome, and contains deep meaning according to Chassidus.

Rabbi Wolf refers to a remarkable documented case in which the Rebbe referred to these special children as “generals.”

The Mayer family went through a difficult period after their son Avremel was born with Down syndrome. A friend suggested they seek the Rebbe’s blessing.

In those years, the Rebbe no longer held private yechidusen, and the entire family stood in the entrance hall of 770 waiting for the Rebbe to come out for mincha.

The Rebbe came out, stopped near baby Avremel, and placed a coin in his small hand for tzedaka. The father, David Meir, later recalled: “Because Avremel had Down syndrome, his muscle tone was low and he could not grasp the coin properly. It fell to the floor. Before anyone even noticed, the Rebbe bent down fully, picked up the coin, placed it back in Avremel’s hand, and gently folded his fingers so it would not fall again.”

The mother was deeply moved and embarrassed, but the Rebbe turned to her and reassured her: “Do not worry, these are my generals.” The Rebbe then bentched the child, saying, “He will be a blessing.”

Indeed, today Avremel lives independently, travels on public transportation on his own, has a job, and is a source of light and bracha for his family.

A Damaged Body, A Holy Soul

The term “generals,” as well as the Rebbe’s statements about the hidden depth within children with special needs and their unique connection to Hashem, aren’t merely words of comfort or encouragement. They are rooted in deep teachings of Chassidus, based on the Zohar and explained in the writings of the Tzemach Tzedek in Derech Mitzvosecha. In fact, the Rebbe himself explained that this approach is grounded in these sources.

In 5736 (1976), a delegation of wounded soldiers from the wars of Israel visited the United States as part of a sports competition for the disabled. They came to 770, where the Rebbe spoke to them and uplifted their spirits.

Among other things, the Rebbe explained in plain terms that when a Jew suffers a physical deficiency, it is not only not a sign of spiritual deficiency. On the contrary, it shows that Hashem grants him special strength to overcome challenges and rise even higher spiritually, even more than a person who was not injured.

The Rebbe then added:

“Therefore, I am not comfortable with the term that is used to call such a person ‘disabled,’ which suggests inferiority and decline. On the contrary, one should emphasize that he was made special and outstanding by the Creator of man, who gives him unique powers, greater than those found in a regular person. Precisely because of this, he can overcome difficulties and obstacles that a regular person cannot overcome.

“I would therefore suggest that they should be called ‘exemplary’ – whether because of war, or for whatever reason it may be.”

The Rebbe emphasized again that changing the name from “disabled” to “exemplary” is not just a change of name to improve morale. Rather, it reflects the truth: they have special powers to reveal the neshama within them, which is unaffected by their physical condition. On the contrary, their physical condition is meant to remind them of the special powers they received from Hashem.

The following Shabbos, during the farbrengen with the chassidim, the Rebbe returned to his meeting with those “exemplary individuals,” expanding on what he had said to them, and pointed to its source in Derech Mitzvosecha of the Tzemach Tzedek, in a maamar discussing a kohen with a physical defect (mum). 

The maamar explains that a physical defect affects only the external level, while the neshama remains fully pure. Therefore, a kohen with a defect cannot serve in the Beis HaMikdash, but can still eat korbanos, which reflects inner wholeness. On a deeper level, such neshamos are part of a process of spiritual refinement, and in the future, their inner greatness will be revealed, and their closeness to Hashem will be especially revealed.

A Window Into a Higher World

“When you learn the Tzemach Tzedek’s maamar,” Rabbi Wolf emphasizes, “you begin to understand the meaning of the Rebbe’s expression ‘my generals.’ These are neshamos with a non-standard role in the war to refine the world and bring it under the sovereignty of Hashem. That is why I chose this expression as the title of the book. This is how the Rebbe saw these special children, and he wanted to instill this perspective in everyone around them.”

An unfamiliar person cannot always grasp the full challenge involved in raising such a child. Parents of a child with special needs invest enormous emotional and physical strength, and of course, a great deal of time and money, to care for and support their child.

Beyond the technical challenges, parents often face an inner struggle. They ask themselves: Why? Why did Hashem give us this challenge? Why this child? And more broadly: Why are such neshamos brought into the world when they often cause suffering to themselves and those around them? What is the purpose of it all?

When you learn the original maamar and see how the Rebbe took its deepest ideas and brought them into daily life, a window opens for you to a higher world. Even if we can’t fully understand the “why,” we can at least understand some of the “what.” There is meaning and purpose for these neshamos in our world, and Hashem is pleased with them and connected to them in a special way.

“Sometimes you can even see more openly the depth of the connection these special children have with Hashem,” Rabbi Wolf adds emotionally. “Even if daily life seems frustrating, and they appear disconnected, that’s not the full picture.”

“With my own son, I saw this clearly regarding the mitzvah of tefillin,” he shares. “We are so used to the act of putting on tefillin that we are not aware of the complex brain activity it requires. The movement of the right hand crossing over to the left side of the body, crossing the body’s midline, counting the number of straps on the arm, and the correct identification of the position of our head without being able to see it – all of these aren’t simple at all for children with special needs.”

“All the challenges I mentioned here characterize my son, and I didn’t think he’d be able to put on tefillin by himself. But he insisted on trying anyway. In order for him to succeed on his bar mitzvah day, he began practicing about half a year earlier. Every day after coming home from his special school, he would practice putting on tefillin. 

“I saw him struggling and sweating so much and not succeeding, that I almost gave up. I figured that I would put the tefillin on him every day. But he insisted that he must do it on his own. In the end, he broke through those limitations and, Baruch Hashem, he was able to put the tefillin on himself.

“For myself, I saw in this the preciousness he had for the mitzvah, and how much he was willing to exert himself for it – a level of effort that most people cannot even imagine. This understanding, that they have a unique connection with Hashem, even more than regular children, helps to get through the difficulties and the challenges of everyday life.”

An Existential Dilemma

A significant and unique part of the new book is a long and fascinating correspondence between the Rebbe and Dr. Robert Wilkes, a Jewish social worker who served as a leading advocate for children with special needs in New York.

In the United States, up until that period, about fifty years ago, children with intellectual disabilities had for many years been housed in impersonal government institutions. These facilities were generally far from their homes and communities, and in many cases, the children were not cared for properly.

During those years, however, efforts were underway in New York to establish small, specialized residential homes within local communities, where the children could receive warmer and more dedicated care in a home-like environment while remaining closer to their families.

Government attempts to move in this direction generated considerable public controversy. Some residents sought to prevent these children from living nearby. Others feared that property values would decline, and some even claimed that the residents of these homes would damage the surrounding neighborhood.

Although Dr. Wilkes was not frum, it was important to him to hear the opinion of a leading Torah authority. After much deliberation, he sent a letter to the Rebbe. It was the summer of 5739 (1979), and to his surprise, less than a week later, he received an exceptionally lengthy response. That letter became the beginning of an extensive correspondence that continued for more than two years.

In his letter, the Rebbe wrote that even if this had not been the primary purpose of the question, he felt compelled to use the opportunity to outline several general principles regarding the education and care of children with special needs.

These principles, the Rebbe explained, could serve as the foundation for creating safer, community-based institutions for them. In parentheses, the Rebbe noted that in truth, these concepts are necessary and important for general education as well, and not only for children with special needs.

The Rebbe listed six important foundational principles, including both “do’s” and “don’ts,” regarding the proper approach to these children. Before doing so, the Rebbe emphasized that every child must be evaluated individually. One of the most common mistakes in this field, the Rebbe explained, is grouping all such children together as a single category.

Among the principles the Rebbe proposed, the Rebbe particularly stressed that:

“The social worker, teacher, and everyone involved with these children should begin with the assumption that the present condition is, in every case, only temporary, and that with time there can certainly be improvement, even significant improvement. Merely having confidence that such progress is possible will inspire greater enthusiasm in this work, and one may hope that it will also stimulate more intensive research.”

“It is important to encourage the students themselves, both through direct conversation and through the manner in which they are guided, so that they feel secure in the knowledge that they are not, chas v’shalom, merely ‘cases,’ and certainly not unfortunate or hopeless cases. Rather, their difficulty is, as mentioned above, only temporary, and through the combined efforts of educator and student, the desired improvement can be accelerated and strengthened.”

The Rebbe immediately clarified that “care must be taken not to create unrealistic expectations through unfounded promises. Nevertheless, it is certainly possible to avoid fostering false hopes while at the same time providing thoughtful and balanced encouragement.”

Point by point, the Rebbe laid one foundation after another and explained each one in detail. The sixth principle dealt specifically with Jewish children.

“Unfortunately,” the Rebbe wrote, “there is a widespread misconception that since these children have developmental challenges and more limited abilities, one should not ‘burden’ them with Jewish education in addition to their general studies, lest they become overwhelmed. In my opinion, this approach is mistaken and harmful, particularly in light of what was stated above regarding the need to avoid emphasizing a child’s disability.

“On the other hand, if the child is involved in Jewish education and activity, not merely in a general or superficial way, but through regular and tangible involvement such as the practical observance of mitzvos, customs, and traditions, this will give him a sense of belonging and connection, and a strong anchor to hold onto, whether consciously or subconsciously. Ultimately, even a subconscious feeling of inner security will penetrate into conscious awareness, especially when the educator works to nurture and strengthen that feeling.”

Years later, Dr. Wilkes described the tremendous impact of the letter:

“First of all, it greatly encouraged me and my colleagues. It filled us with hope and made it clear that we were moving in the right direction. More importantly, it made a major contribution to the revolution that was taking place during those years in both public opinion and professional circles.

“At a meeting of the Brooklyn Regional Council for the Intellectually Disabled, I informed those present that I had received a detailed halachic and philosophical opinion on the subject from the Rebbe. Department heads immediately wanted to know what it said.

“I presented the Rebbe’s letter to the Jewish Federation of New York in order to obtain assistance for establishing these institutions, and because of it, all the funding was approved within a single day. Later, the Jewish Press, one of the most widely read Jewish newspapers, asked me to publish the letter I had received.”

Dr. Wilkes and his colleagues continued working energetically in accordance with the Rebbe’s guidance. About a year after the correspondence began, an honorary invitation was sent to the Rebbe for a conference sponsored by the Federation of Jewish Philanthropies on the topic of addressing the needs and concerns of Jews with intellectual disabilities. The Rebbe sent a special letter to all the participants.

In an enthusiastic report sent to the Rebbe after the conference, Dr. Wilkes described how copies of the Rebbe’s letter to the conference, together with the letter outlining the fundamental principles for caring for Jewish children with special needs, were distributed to every participant, approximately 250 people in total. All responded enthusiastically to the Rebbe’s message.

They also resolved to place special emphasis on performing mitzvos in the institutions that would be established and on strengthening Jewish education among the children.

“There was a question raised by one of the mothers,” Dr. Wilkes wrote to the Rebbe in one of his letters, “which caused us to stop and reflect on the very purpose of our existence. If the primary purpose of life is to fulfill Hashem’s mitzvos, and there is a Jew who, from childhood, is unable to fulfill even one of these mitzvos because of severe physical or intellectual limitations, what then is the purpose, or meaning, of his existence? I would greatly appreciate a response.”

The Rebbe’s reply was not long in coming.

The Rebbe first explained that it is impossible for any Jew to fulfill all 613 mitzvos. Certain mitzvos apply only to Kohanim, for example. The Jewish people are one body, and each individual contributes their portion to the collective mission. The source for this concept is found in the writings of the Arizal and in Iggeres HaKodesh, Perek 29, in Tanya.

The Rebbe then expanded the idea by pointing to the harmony of human society as a whole:

“Every person must contribute to the common welfare, even though each individual is necessarily limited in his own abilities, whether he is a simple farmer producing food, a scientist, an inventor of agricultural machinery, or something else. A person who excels in his own area of contribution may be limited, or even ineffective, in another area.

“Who is qualified to determine which individual is more important, or whose contribution is greater? Only harmonious cooperation and the utilization of all human resources bring society to its highest level of completeness.

“All that needs to be said, as Chazal emphasized, is that Hashem does not demand from any person anything beyond that individual’s natural abilities. A person should not ask why Hashem granted one individual greater abilities than another.”

Tefillin as a Gift

“We’re not qualified to say about a specific child that his neshamah did not come into this world to fulfill mitzvos,” Rabbi Wolf clarifies. “But we do know that the purpose of such a neshama is not an ordinary one, and its mission in this world remains hidden from us.”

“I have a moving story of open hashgacha protis connected to this.

“One day, a friend called me. Years earlier, he and his family had gone on shlichus overseas, but after several years, they returned because that country lacked suitable services for their special-needs child. Unfortunately, unlike Eretz Yisroel, the United States, and other developed countries, there are still places today where no governmental infrastructure exists to provide proper support for such children.

“He shared a painful dilemma with me. His son suffers from severe autism and functions at a very low level. He cannot put on tefillin by himself. The child lives in a special institution where nobody is available to devote the time necessary for such a complicated task.

“The father struggled to come to terms with the fact that his son would not put on tefillin every day. Every father dreams of purchasing beautiful tefillin for his son, yet he wondered whether it made sense to spend such a significant sum on tefillin that won’t be used.

“I told him that I understood his pain, but I wanted to share something that had happened with one of my other sons.

“When he celebrated his bar mitzvah, during the dancing, he climbed onto a human pyramid formed by his classmates and fell to the ground from the top. Tragically, in the middle of his bar mitzvah celebration, he broke the arm on which he was supposed to put on tefillin. He was rushed to the hospital, underwent surgery, and metal pins were inserted into his arm.

“The next morning, I walked through the hospital ward carrying his brand-new tefillin. I asked Jewish visitors and patients to put on tefillin in place of my son, whose bar mitzvah was that day, but whose arm was immobilized in a cast extending to his shoulder, preventing him from putting the tefillin directly on the arm that had waited thirteen years for that moment.

“Needless to say, this touched the hearts of the Jewish people in the corridor, and many of them put on his new tefillin.

“Based on that experience, I suggested to the young man that perhaps he should donate the money he had set aside for a new pair of tefillin for his son to a family that could not afford tefillin for their own son. He accepted the suggestion, and our conversation ended.

“A few hours later, I received a phone call from the rov of the Chabad community where that man now lives. The rov was extremely emotional.

“‘You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you,’ he said. ‘Today, a struggling woman from the community, whom I have helped several times in the past, came into my office. She told me that her third son’s bar mitzvah was approaching, and she had no money to buy him a pair of tefillin.

“‘At that moment, I was unable to help her. I told her I would make a note of the request and hoped Hashem would send assistance soon. I had no idea how soon.

“‘About an hour after she left, the man you spoke with walked into my office and asked whether I knew of a family in need of assistance purchasing tefillin. I immediately called the woman back and gave her the entire amount.’”

“Moments like these,” Rabbi Wolf says, “which we are privileged to witness from time to time, encourage and strengthen our faith that the neshamos we were privileged to raise have a purpose and a profound meaning that remains hidden from us. Our task is to devote ourselves to the mission Hashem has entrusted to us with joy.”

Maintaining Balance

As one reads through the collection of letters and stories in the sefer, another dimension of the Rebbe’s approach to parents of children with special needs becomes apparent.

“Many times, parents become so devoted to caring for their special-needs child that they forget about the world around them. Excessive attention to the special child can come at the expense of maintaining a healthy family life and giving proper attention to the other children in the home,” notes Rabbi Wolf.

He points to several examples in which the Rebbe not only encouraged and blessed parents, but also felt it necessary to firmly remind certain parents of their responsibilities and guide them to restore balance to their lives despite the challenges involved in caring for a special-needs child.

One of the moving stories is that of Mrs. Chana Sharfstein.

When her daughter was a year and a half old, she was diagnosed with autism. At that time, nearly sixty years ago, the medical and therapeutic communities still had very little understanding of how to help children like her.

Mrs. Sharfstein came to see the Rebbe together with her daughter. The Rebbe took out a piece of paper and a pencil from his desk drawer and placed them before the little girl. As the child began scribbling on the paper, the Rebbe turned to the mother with a bright smile and said:

“This is wonderful. I don’t know why people are making such a big issue out of it…” (“Ich veis nisht vos m’macht a gantze maaseh duh.”)

The Rebbe instructed her to treat her daughter as a completely normal child, explaining that this would be the key to her success. Indeed, little by little, the girl developed in many areas of life.

Some time later, after an appointment with a highly respected psychiatrist, Mrs. Sharfstein received devastating news.

“This child will never be able to live independently,” the psychiatrist told her. “Do yourself a favor and find a residential placement for her. Forget that she was ever born.”

From the moment she heard those piercing words from a top doctor, Mrs. Sharfstein went through extremely difficult days and sleepless nights.

After some time, she was able to see the Rebbe once again. Standing before the Rebbe, she broke down in uncontrollable tears for many long minutes.

“I tried to stop myself and couldn’t,” Mrs. Sharfstein later recalled. “I scolded myself for wasting the Rebbe’s precious time with an emotional outburst. Finally, with tremendous effort, I regained control and described to the Rebbe the psychiatrist’s comments and all the details of my daughter’s situation.

“The Rebbe listened attentively. He nodded thoughtfully as I spoke. When I finished, the Rebbe asked me gently: ‘Tell me about your other children. Are they doing well in school? Do they have friends?’

“In that gentle and wise way, the Rebbe brought me back down to earth and reminded me that Hashem had given me four other children and that I needed to be a mother to them as well.

“From that point on, I learned how to find the proper balance and combine my concern for my special daughter with remembering the broader picture.”

Another story involves Mrs. Miriam Swerdlov, the mother of a special-needs child. She had asked the Rebbe whether she should leave her position at a school in New Haven, Connecticut, to devote herself entirely to caring for her son.

When the mazkir relayed the Rebbe’s response, she could hardly believe it. The Rebbe responded that not only should she not leave her teaching position, but that she should actively seek additional areas of involvement as well.

At the time, she accepted the Rebbe’s instruction with kabbalas ol. Only later did she realize how critical this guidance had been for both her well-being and her emotional health, enabling her to devote time and emotional energy to other areas of life as well.

“We are now coming from Shavuos, which falls on the sixth of Sivan, the very day on which Moshe Rabbeinu was placed into the river,” Rabbi Wolf says. “Moshe Rabbeinu was born on 7 Adar. Three months later, on the sixth of Sivan, his mother, Yocheved, could no longer hide him from the Egyptians.

“The natural tendency in such a situation is to keep pushing beyond one’s limits, even when doing so no longer accomplishes anything. However, Yocheved taught us a lesson for life.

“She took Moshe, placed him in a basket coated with clay and pitch among the reeds by the riverbank. That was as much as she could do given the circumstances. According to the natural order of things, he could not survive there for long without food and water.

“From this story in the Torah, we learn how a parent should conduct themselves in situations like these. Hashem says, ‘I ask only according to a person’s capabilities.’ We are obligated to do what is required of us, but not to try to ‘climb to the heavens’ beyond our capability. We must avoid reaching a point where total devotion undermines the healthy functioning of the entire family.”

Preparing for the Geulah

The transformation that the Rebbe championed in the way people view children with special needs, seeing the neshama within them that longs to connect with Hashem, and viewing their limitations as temporary conditions that can be significantly improved through consistent effort, gradually permeated public consciousness and became widely accepted.

Professor Reuven Feuerstein was one of the pioneering researchers and educators who helped establish the positive approach toward children with special needs in Eretz Yisroel and throughout the world. He speaks about the guidance he received from the Rebbe and the patients whom the Rebbe himself referred to him.

“The name of something reveals its essence,” Rabbi Wolf explains. “We can learn much about the old and misguided attitude toward these children from the fact that in the countries of the former Soviet Union, various disabilities are still referred to by the term ‘defectology.’”

Rabbi Wolf draws our attention to a quote from the Rebbe that addresses the term commonly used today throughout the world: ‘special children.’

In the sicha of Shabbos Parshas Eikev 5748 (1988), the Rebbe discussed the concept of elevating the languages of the nations of the world. Almost in passing, the Rebbe remarked:

“In recent years, we have found even among the nations of the world that children who are limited in their abilities, children whose development is lacking in certain respects, rachmana litzlan, are called ‘special children’… a term that expresses a unique quality and distinction. Although on the surface this designation is simply intended as a sign of respect, it nevertheless also points to the special strengths that these children possess.”

The Rebbe then referenced the explanation found in Chassidus regarding why a blind person, r”l, is referred to as a “sagi nahor,” literally, “one of abundant light.” This is not merely a respectful expression designed to spare embarrassment. Rather, the inability to see stems, on a deeper level, from an overwhelming abundance of spiritual light and chayus, a level of illumination too intense to be contained within the limited physical vessel of the eye.

As we draw closer to Yemos HaMoshiach and the Geulah, the Rebbe explained, a time when the true Torah essence of every aspect of creation will become revealed, even the languages of the nations of the world are becoming elevated and refined. As a result, they too are coming to recognize that these “special” children possess special strengths.

May Hashem grant that very soon we merit to witness the complete healing of all children with special needs, and may their parents succeed in raising them to Torah, chuppah, and maasim tovim with health, peace of mind, and abundance.

And may we soon see fulfilled the words of the Tzemach Tzedek at the conclusion of his maamar: “In the future, all deficiencies will be completely rectified… Then they will rejoice in the joy of the Shechinah with even greater intensity and strength. And may Hashem grant us the merit to witness the comfort of Tzion and Yerushalayim speedily in our days!”

Adapted from Ki Karov magazine by Anash.org.