Mom makes plea for compassion
Among the 11 men and women slaughtered at the Tree of Life synagogue last week were brothers Cecil and David Rosenthal, loved and valued members of Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood.
Both Cecil and David were developmentally disabled. Their condition made them different, and their difference appears to have made them all the more loved and valued by their community: At their funeral, where their simple wooden caskets were placed side by side, the 1,400-seat Rodef Shalom temple overflowed with mourners.
More than 550 miles away, in Waukesha, Chelsea Budde, the mother of a developmentally disabled son and daughter, also grieved.
“I am a person of faith,” Chelsea said. She was sitting on her living room couch beside her 19-year-old son, Justus.
“I believe God has created us all exactly the way we are for a very specific purpose. I don’t understand why someone would come in and destroy something different, people who are different. We value diversity.”
“It’s heartbreaking,” she said. And as she said it, her voice broke.
“Are you crying?” Justus asked. “A little,” Chelsea said.
“Oh,” Justus said. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
Justus is diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. Justus’s brain, Chelsea said, is wired in a way that is different from those who are not on the spectrum. As a result, Justus behaves differently.
It can be difficult for some people to understand and accept people who, for no obvious reason, behave differently.
When Justus was in elementary school, Chelsea said, he had a teacher who, when Justus seemed out of control, would take him out of class, roll him up in a gym mat and leave him in the hallway.
“Why did they do that?” Justus asked her.
“They thought you were acting out,” Chelsea said. “They kept trying to stop your behavior without understanding your behavior.” “Humiliating,” Justus said. There is no cure for autism. Autism is part of the person who is Justus and it always will be.
Hate and intolerance, Chelsea realized, whether manifested in a white supremacist or a bully, is a threat to her son’s well-being and to the well-being of anyone else who is well, you know ...
“different.”
In 2007, Chelsea and another mother of an autistic child, Denise Schamens, co-founded Good Friend, a nonprofit that works with schools to teach students awareness, acceptance and empathy for people with autism.
It’s not about passive indifference and tolerance, Chelsea said. Her mission is to inspire action.
“It is the job of people with compassion to point out what’s wrong and where we can do better,” she said. “And not just tolerating one another.
“I hate that term ‘tolerance’ because it means you still don’t like it and you certainly don’t have to respect it. Acceptance. That’s what we want to create. Something where we are not just tolerating each other. We are making each other a part of our group.”
Practicing awareness, acceptance and empathy changes people, Chelsea said. It has changed her.
She pointed to a plaque above the kitchen table. Justus gave it to her for Christmas. Chelsea read it out loud:
“Believe there is good in the world. Be the good.”
Again, her voice broke.
“Being Justus’ mom makes me want to be the good,” she said.