blogs/rabbi-huberman

Growing up in suburban Montreal during the 1960s, there was perhaps no more important force in the lives of my brother and me than our four friends-brothers �" who lived three doors down.

Our back yards were separated by a neatly coiffed and fenced lawn owned by two elderly couples.

Often, when a baseball or football soared over the fence, we would organize stealth raids to retrieve them, before our grumpy neighbors would either seize our ball �" or, worse-report us to our parents.

As we left Montreal for college and other pursuits, we lost close touch with our four friends. But a few years ago, my brother Ron told me that he'd received a card from one of the brothers, inviting him to his daughter's bat mitzvah.

With joy and anticipation, Ron and his wife Adeena decided to make the trip.

As they drove to Toronto, Ron and Adeena were curious about how the occasion would be approached. You see, they knew that the bat mitzvah, Paige, was physically challenged.

She was limited in her movement, and could not vocalize. She used instead, a combination of blinks to communicate thoughts and feelings.

The Toronto synagogue was packed as Paige was called to the Torah. And, that day, Paige, with her own language, brought a marvelous and unique force to becoming a bat mitzvah.

As my brother tells it, there was not a dry eye in the synagogue as she and her family were showered by candies and cries of Mazal Tov.

“She had the most amazing smile that anyone can imagine,” my brother recalled.

Indeed, Paige's smile was so bright and proud that it elevated the souls of everyone present �" and, I believe, extended straight to