The Rebbe Called Them “Metzuyanim.” It Doesn’t Mean “Special”

The Rebbe’s 1976 encounter with wounded Israeli soldiers taught a powerful lesson about kochos, responsibility and what it truly means to be “metzuyanim.”

This week marks 50 years since one of the Rebbe’s most famous encounters with people with disabilities.

In 1976, a group of injured Israeli soldiers came to 770. Many had lost limbs or were using wheelchairs after being wounded while serving in the IDF. At the time, they were commonly referred to as nechim, handicapped. The Rebbe objected and suggested calling them מצויינים, metzuyanim, exceptional.

It is a beautiful story. But many of us may have taken one word from that encounter and misunderstood it. “Metzuyanim” does not mean that every person with a disability is “special.”

These men were wounded Israeli soldiers. They had gone to war for Eretz Yisroel, risked their lives for other Yidden, and some had literally sacrificed parts of their bodies. They really were exceptional people.

The Rebbe was also making a deeper point. If Hashem gives someone an unusual challenge, He also gives that person the kochos needed to face it. We should not look at a physical limitation and automatically conclude that the person has less. The challenge itself tells us that Hashem gave that person the kochos for his particular shlichus.

But that does not mean every disabled person is automatically extraordinary, or that everything a disabled person does should suddenly become extraordinary.

A man in a wheelchair comes to a wedding and someone says, “You are so inspiring. It is amazing that you came.” Why? Everyone else came too.

A disabled person gets a job and people say, “Wow, you’re incredible.” Maybe he is incredible at his job. Maybe he is average at it, like most people. The wheelchair does not tell you.

A disabled person gets married and people call it an “incredible story.” But when two nondisabled people get married, nobody calls the marriage inspirational just because it happened.

This is where “special” can become insulting without anyone intending it that way. The hidden message can be: We expected less from you. If people are shocked that someone in a wheelchair works, travels, dates, gets married or runs a business, what exactly was the expectation beforehand?

That is not really a compliment. It is a very low bar wrapped in very nice words.

Calling people with disabilities “special” can also separate them from everyone else. There are regular people, and then there are the “special” people. We do this with children too: “He has such a special neshama.” “She is so pure.”

Maybe. But maybe that child is also stubborn, funny, competitive, difficult, smart, average or just wants to be treated like everyone else. A disability does not create one personality. Some people with disabilities are inspiring. Some are not inspiring at all. Some are brilliant. Some are difficult. Some are completely ordinary.

That is normal.

There is a deliberately inappropriate term used in the disability world for turning disabled people into objects whose purpose is to inspire everyone else. The full term does not belong here, but the idea is simple.

You see a picture of a child with no legs playing basketball with the caption, “What’s your excuse?” That child just stopped being a person and became a lesson for everyone else.

Or someone with a disability dances at a wedding and the comments immediately become, “I’ll never complain again” or “Look how happy he is despite everything.” Maybe he just wanted to dance.

A person can genuinely inspire others. But a person should not exist mainly as someone else’s inspiration.

That does not seem to be what the Rebbe was doing in 1976. The Rebbe was not pointing to those soldiers and telling everyone else, “Look at them and appreciate how lucky you are.”

He was speaking to them. He was telling them about their kochos. He was taking people whom society could easily look at with rachmanus and telling them not to define themselves by what was physically missing. They had abilities, responsibility and a shlichus.

That is very different from simply telling disabled people that they are “special.”

And sometimes admiration becomes a substitute for inclusion. It is easy to tell a disabled child he has a “special neshama.” It is harder to make sure the school actually has a place for him. It is easy to tell someone in a wheelchair, “You’re unbelievable.” It is harder to make sure the shul is accessible.

It is easy to tell a disabled single, “Any girl would be lucky to have you.” It is harder to actually suggest that person to the same people suggested for everyone else. It is easy to put someone with a disability on a stage because his story moves the room. It is harder to put him on the board.

The Rebbe did not speak to those soldiers like children. He did not simply tell them how amazing they were. He spoke about kochos, responsibility and what they could accomplish.

That means expectations.

Sometimes the most respectful thing we can do for a person with a disability is to have normal expectations. If someone does something badly, say so. If someone is wrong, disagree. If someone has talent, use it. If someone can take responsibility, give it.

Do not decide in advance that everything a disabled person does is wonderful simply because it is being done from a wheelchair. That is not equality. It is another way of lowering expectations.

Those soldiers in 1976 really were metzuyanim. They were heroes who had sacrificed for Eretz Yisroel. And the Rebbe used their physical challenges to teach something deeper: a challenge from Hashem comes together with the kochos to face it.

But disability itself does not make someone “special.”

A wheelchair is not a personality. A diagnosis is not an accomplishment. And a disabled person should not have to be extraordinary in order to be respected.

Fifty years later, perhaps we can move past simply telling people with disabilities how “special” they are. Treat people with disabilities like adults, expect things from them and include them.

See the person before seeing the wheelchair.

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