COMMUNITY NEWS
The Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia mobilizes financial
and volunteer resources to address the communities’ most critical
priorities locally, in Israel and around the world.

T he universal quest to be understood is a pursuit escaped by no one.

Solvej Berman, 17, knows this well. Berman spends every Thursday
afternoon with 7-year-old Ezra Hodas, a boy living with a disability who
struggles to communicate with his peers. Together, Berman and Ezra build
Legos, play hide and seek and wrestle in the grass outside on sunny days. But
when the pair fi rst met, their dynamic was a far cry from the caring relationship
it is now.

Berman met Ezra through Philly Friendship Circle, a Jewish Federation of
Greater Philadelphia-supported organization. Created by Chabad-Lubavitch to
connect teens and young adults of all abilities and needs and their families, Philly
Friendship Circle aims to build inclusive, authentic relationships that cultivate
understanding, kindness and responsibility.

Berman has participated in the organization’s Friends@Home program since
she was 13 and Ezra was only 3.

The Jewish
Federation’s Local 2022
Impact $285,000
granted to organizations
dedicated to increasing
disability inclusion
4,392 persons with
disabilities and older
adults participated in
socialization activities to
reduce isolation
8 FEBRUARY 2, 2023 | JEWISH EXPONENT
846 persons with disabilities
and their family members received
care management, socialization,
and educational and
skill-building programs
“When we fi rst became friends, he
didn’t talk much, and when he did,
I couldn’t always understand what
he wanted and he would get a bit
Solvej Berman, 17, and Ezra
frustrated,” Berman explained. “Now I
Hodas, 7, met through the Philly
Friendship Circle four years ago.

don’t even notice that communication
is diffi cult for him because I understand
his way of expressing himself. We’re able to have complete conversations, like
we’re speaking our own secret language. It’s such a joyful part of my week.”
According to the Jewish Federation’s population study in 2019, 178,310 individ-
uals in the Greater Philadelphia area have been diagnosed with a mental or
behavioral health condition, and 67,909 individuals are caretakers for someone
with a physical health problem or disability.

This past year, the Jewish Federation granted $60,000 to Philly Friendship
Circle to help support the critical work it does for these individuals and their
families. Chani Baram, co-founder and chief relationship offi cer of Philly
Friendship Circle, says this funding allows them to expand their reach in the
community and impact more lives.

“The generous support from the Jewish Federation has helped us to continue
off ering our fl agship programs, such as Sunday Circle and Friends@Home,
despite so many obstacles, including a global pandemic,” Baram said. “Our goal
is to have more and more youth experience the magic of genuine, inclusive
connections, so that in the years to come, the future adults in our community will
understand the power of friendship and acceptance, and use this appreciation
to ensure that everyone belongs.”
Working toward this sense of belonging is a priority for the Jewish Federation,
which granted $285,000 last year to local organizations dedicated to increasing
disability inclusion.

“The Jewish Federation is an active participant in public policy advocacy
related to disability inclusion in the community and workforce, and a proud
partner and funder of many of our region’s critical community organiza-
tions serving individuals living with a disability, including Judith Creed
Horizons for Achieving Independence, Jewish Learning Venture, Jewish Family
and Children’s Service and many more,” stated Brian Gralnick, the Jewish
Federation’s director of local grants and partnerships. “We believe that every-
one belongs at every table.”
For Berman, creating inclusivity starts at home by actively working towards
understanding those around her – beginning with Ezra.

“Ezra makes me feel so loved, especially after a draining week,” Berman said.

“At the end of the day, all he wants is not to be judged, because it’s harder for
him to communicate in traditional ways. He just wants to have a friend to laugh
with, and I always look forward to laughing with him.”
Courtesy of Philly Friendship Circle
Quest to Be Understood:
Jewish Federation’s Commitment
to Disability Inclusion



YOU SHOULD KNOW ...

Devora Weintraub
Photos by Eliza Whitney
Sasha Rogelberg | Staff Writer
A t 21 years old, Devora Weintraub has spent almost a quarter
of her life as an emergency medical technician.

The daughter of a physician father and science teacher
mother, the Bala Cynwyd native and University of Pennsylvania
student was indoctrinated with a love of medicine and learning at a
young age. Knowing she wanted to go to medical school early on,
Weintraub was not intimidated by the extra schooling that becoming
a doctor of medicine would require.

Instead, she was eager to get a jump
start. “I didn’t want to have to wait those
eight additional years to start practic-
ing medicine, so I realized that becom-
ing an EMT was a shortcut to get
started, to get my feet wet,” Weintraub
said. At 16, Weintraub became an EMT
at Narberth Ambulance, where she
has volunteered for nearly six years,
working at least a 12-hour shift per
week, balancing a full school course
load and involvement at the Orthodox
Community of Penn, where she serves
as chesed chair. She and her family
are members of Young Israel of the
Main Line.

Among the 50 other EMTs at
Narberth Ambulance, Weintraub is
one of the few women and the only
Orthodox Jew.

“For a lot of my coworkers, I’m the
first Orthodox Jew that they’ve ever
met in their life, and some of them, the
only one that they know,” Weintraub
said. According to Weintraub, EMT work
is a “boys’ club,” and the team took
time to adjust to Weintraub’s cultural
practices that she maintained as an
EMT: not volunteering on Shabbat and
wearing long skirts, even during her
shifts. Weintraub also keeps shomer
negiah, the halachic principle that
people of different sexes should not
touch each other before marriage.

Under shomer negiah, Weintraub
would not be allowed to touch male
patients or coworkers, making her job
nearly impossible to fulfill at times. To
navigate being an Orthodox Jew in
an intimate, secular environment, she
invokes another halachic principle.

“When I walk into work, everything
I do is in the name of pikuach nefesh
(saving a life), so really, that overrides
everything,” she said.

In the name of saving a life, Weintraub
will ignore shomer negiah, even if
a patient has a non-life-threatening
injury, such as a broken leg.

“It might not be an immediate life
threat, but down the line, if I don’t splint
it or somebody else doesn’t splint it, it
can lead to other issues,” she said.

In other, more serious situations,
drawing a line between pikuach
nefesh and shomer negiah is trickier.

Weintraub uses the example of a male
patient having an issue with a catheter.

In this instance, she would enlist the
help of a male coworker, not just to
preserve shomer negiah, but also the
dignity of the patient in need.

Weintraub has discussed her
religious and personal boundaries
with Jewish community leaders and
rabbis. At this stage in her life, she
decides to shake hands with men in
a professional setting or high-five a
male coworker after a particularly
difficult shift. The work, after all, is
emotionally and mentally draining, and
something as simple as a high-five can
be an important team-building and
morale-boosting action. She draws
the line at hugging, however, and her
coworkers respect her choice.

Working with the same team of
EMTs, Weintraub sees the other volun-
teers as a family of sorts. There’s a lot
of good rapport underneath some
crude jokes and an abundance of
curse words, she said. The team is
there to debrief with each other after
harrowing 911 calls.

Outside of her Narberth Hospital
team, Weintraub processes her work
with friends and Jewish community
members or tries to compartmentalize
her shifts when she’s finished. She’s
grateful she got started as an EMT
young — when she couldn’t overthink
the job or back down.

“It’s scary; it’s a lot of responsibility,”
she said. “I think I just sort of jumped
in the deep end, and if I hadn’t, I don’t
think that I’d be here now.”
But despite the difficulty of the job,
Weintraub is committed to continuing.

“I really enjoy the aspect of being
invited into people’s hardest days of
their life and trying to make it a little bit
better for them,” she said. ■
srogelberg@midatlanticmedia.com JEWISHEXPONENT.COM
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