The narrative of the Four Sons is a highlight of the Pesach Seder often viewed as a metaphor with critical lessons for parents and educators. Within the Wise Son, the Wicked Son, the Simple Son and the Son Who Doesn’t Know to Ask/How to Ask, one can find characteristics inherent within every household or classroom. Indeed, having spent much of my life working with people with disabilities, I would humbly suggest that the lessons of the Four Sons have particular importance for our appreciation and respect for members of this community. 

Perhaps the most important thing to recognize when interacting with people with varying abilities — or with any fellow human being really — is the beauty of diversity. We all belong to a spectrum of qualities, strengths and talents. No two people are alike, and no two people share the exact same attributes. This is true of people with and without disabilities.

So who is like the Wise Son mentioned in the Haggadah? He is surely a reference to anyone who has some form of wisdom, which means each of us — for no one possesses all wisdom, and no one possesses none.

What about the Wicked Son? Are there any people on the planet who can say that they have never done something wrong or hurtful?

And the Simple Son? Each of us has areas where we are lacking knowledge but have the ability to inquire, whether verbally or not, and learn more.  

The Son Who Doesn’t Know to Ask also reflects all of us. Sometimes we fail to ask due to hubris; sometimes out of embarrassment at not knowing something; sometimes because we lack the knowledge or the terminology to ask a question on any particular topic. Sometimes, we simply don’t know how to ask.

We can learn from people from across the “spectrum of ability” that each one of us shares the attributes of all four of these characters from the Hagaddah.

The Wise Son, for example, is typically thought of as a scholar, someone who dedicates much of his time to academic pursuits. Yet we are overlooking true wisdom if we think it can only be found by those whose heads are bowed over books or texts. No less wise in my opinion are people like Nechemia, whom I met when I began working at Israel Elwyn more than 40 years ago. Every week, he would remind me what the weekly parsha was, and he could recite from it by heart. Benny, another man I met very early in my career, never forgot a date. On birthdays, anniversaries of special events, very important ones and trivial ones, Benny would smile and remind me that that particular day reflected a milestone. These men, along with countless other individuals whom I have met over the years, reflect no less wisdom than any traditional scholar. 

I won’t give examples of those who are wicked, but who can honestly say they don’t possess at least some of this attribute, some of the time?

When speaking of the simple son, I like to think of pureness, modesty and the awareness that we don’t know everything. Over the years, I have met hundreds of determined individuals who, after specialized job training, achieved a career that met their skill level and fit their abilities.  The pride they showed through their work and their success was inspiring. All of us can fit in; all of us can contribute. For some, that means as engineers, managers, doctors and scientists; but those of us with other skills and who achieve other career goals need have no less pride in our achievements. We all can learn a lot about modesty and legitimate pride by seeing how we people of all abilities define and find success. 

Finally, for those with cognitive limitations or communication challenges, knowing if, how and when to ask questions can be an obstacle. I have learned over the years that providing support through sharing information in a manner that is simplified or otherwise made more accessible can allow each of us to make decisions about our own lives. Sometimes not knowing how to ask a question is not because of a lack of skill, but because the information needed to ask a question is not accessible. 

In our society, we sometimes unknowingly put up barriers (physical and otherwise) that exclude others. Such barriers can be overcome sometimes by the simplest means. When information is presented in a complex manner — think of a transit map in a major metropolitan city — many of us can’t understand it; but when we make efforts to make that information a simpler, more accessible format, many of us can. As a society, we must anticipate and remove the barriers so the ability to ask questions can follow. 

All of us have limitations, and all of us possess certain abilities.  It is not about us and them. It is about us all. As Rabbi Ben Zoma is quoted in Ethics of the Fathers: “Who is wise?  One who learns from every person.” We each can learn much at the Seder table, just like we can each teach something as well. 

At this year’s Seder table, perhaps we can pause as we reach the section of the Four Sons and encourage ourselves and our children to learn something from our diversely-abled world. Let us take that moment to recognize that while we are certainly all different, we are also all the same.  Let’s make an effort to make this realization a means to a more inclusive Seder — and ultimately, a more inclusive society.