Twenty-five years ago, I co-founded Matan with a clear vision: that Jewish education, and Jewish life, must include every child regardless of ability. At the time, the conversation around disability inclusion in the Jewish community was just beginning. Many families were being told, implicitly or explicitly, that their child “wasn’t a good fit” for Hebrew school, day school or summer camp. Too often, Jewish spaces weren’t built to support the full range of human diversity; these were painful rejections from a community that was supposed to be a spiritual home.

Since then, we have made meaningful, sometimes even remarkable, progress. Matan has trained thousands of Jewish educators, clergy and communal leaders to create more inclusive learning environments. We have helped to shape a culture shift in which more synagogues, camps, schools, and community centers are recognizing that inclusion is not a favor we do for people with disabilities; it makes our community stronger. It is also a core Jewish value rooted in the principles of b’tzelem Elohim (the belief that every person is created in the image of God), chesed (loving kindness), and tzedek (justice).

Matan hosts the Lieberman Fellowship for Jewish Organizations Serving Young Adults at the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington and Bender JCC of Greater Washington in Rockville, Md., on Nov. 14, 2024. Avi Gerver

We have seen synagogues hire inclusion specialists as full or part-time staff. We’ve watched communities begin to design their spaces, programs and mindsets with accessibility in mind from the very beginning, not as an afterthought. These shifts are meaningful. They are sacred. They matter.

And yet, 25 years later, I still find myself repeating a simple truth: We are not done.

Even now, in 2025, families are turned away because their needs are “too complex.” Adults with disabilities remain underrepresented in Jewish leadership. And inclusion is still too often treated as an optional program or special initiative, rather than a systemic, justice-centered priority.

Disability inclusion is not separate from other efforts to build an equitable and welcoming Jewish community — it is deeply intertwined with them. Jews with disabilities are also part of the LGBTQ+ community (in secular studies, 36% self-report as having a disability). They are Jews of Color. They are interfaith families. They are immigrants. They are elders and children and teens. When we talk about creating inclusive spaces for one group, we must consider how multiple identities intersect and how exclusion is compounded when we fail to recognize those intersections.

As I step into the role of executive director of Matan, 25 years after founding the organization, I do so with deep gratitude for the progress we’ve made and clear-eyed urgency about the work ahead. We need more than inclusive language. We need action. We need funding. We need leadership that reflects the diversity of the Jewish people. We need every Jewish institution to ask: Who is missing from our table and why? What are we going to do about it?

Inclusion is not a side project. It is the project.

Our tradition teaches that every person is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God. That includes people with disabilities. It includes people who process the world differently, who communicate differently, who move through space differently. And it includes people living at the intersection of multiple marginalized identities. If we believe this, truly believe it, then our institutions must reflect it in every policy, every classroom, every synagogue, every leadership table.

This work is not just about access — it’s about belonging. It’s about ensuring that people with disabilities are not merely present in Jewish spaces, but that they are valued, heard, and empowered as essential contributors to our communal life. It’s about recognizing that inclusion is not a destination, but an ongoing process that requires continual reflection, adaptation, and accountability. We must examine who holds power, who sets the norms, and who is still waiting to be invited in — not only physically, but spiritually and communally.

The Jewish community has shown what is possible when we commit to change. Now we need to go further. Disability inclusion is Jewish inclusion. And the time to act — boldly, collectively and with open hearts — is now.

As we look ahead, our vision must be expansive. Disability inclusion must be embedded in rabbinical training, in board development, in youth group curricula, in lifecycle rituals, in hiring practices and in community planning. It must be visible and unapologetic — not tucked away as a quiet accommodation, but embraced as a reflection of our deepest values.

Let’s stop asking if inclusion is possible, and start asking what’s possible because of inclusion. Let’s ensure that the next 25 years bring not just more awareness, but transformation — where every Jewish person, in all their complexity, finds a home in our shared story.

Because when we build a community for everyone, everyone benefits.

Meredith Englander Polsky, a licensed clinical social worker and special educator, co-founded Matan in the year 2000 and was recently named executive director of the organization.