Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, March 13, 1993 TAG: 9303120390
SECTION: NATL/INTL PAGE: A-4 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BY JERRY THORNTON CHICAGO TRIBUNE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
PRIESTS, RABBIS MEETING NEEDS OF THE DEAF
As rabbi for a deaf congregation, Douglas Goldhammer is often called upon to attend to a wide range of needs.One such request recently came from deaf actress Marlee Matlin.
"She called and asked me to do her wedding," Goldhammer proudly said. Matlin, a Morton Grove, Ill., native, had her bat mitzvah in the congregation's synagogue.
"I use to tell Marlee, `You've got to project better.' Now she could teach me how to project," Goldhammer said of Matlin, who won an Oscar in 1986 for best actress in "Children of a Lesser God."
A few decades ago, the deaf didn't have many to administer to their religious needs, said Goldhammer, who heads Congregation Bene Shalom, Hebrew Association of the Deaf in Skokie, Ill.
The congregation started in 1972 with 25 people. It now serves about 450 people, of which more than 300 are deaf, Goldhammer said. Services are done orally and in sign language, and the choir performs songs in sign.
As part of the congregation's continued growth, the Hebrew Seminary of the Deaf was established last year to train future rabbis. Four students are enrolled.
Worship services for the deaf have become a part of many denominations in the area; the oldest being the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago.
"The archdiocese has had a continuous ministry for the deaf since 1884," said Rev. Joseph Mulcrone, director of the Catholic Office for the Deaf.
At Bene Shalom, people who can hear say they find the services "fascinating and beautiful," Goldhammer said. "Sign gives a three-dimensional meaning to the service."
The other deaf synagogue in the U.S. is in Los Angeles, where Matlin's August wedding will be done orally and in sign.
"One of the things we do is try to have the deaf take over all responsibilities of the service," Mulcrone said. "We have two deacons who are deaf, our scripture reader, altar boys, ushers and choir are deaf."
Mass is attended by those who are deaf and their speaking parents and other family members or by deaf parents who bring their hearing children.
"For years in most churches, regardless of the denomination, you've had deaf people and the mode was `This poor deaf person' or they were treated as guests and not really as members of the congregation," Mulcrone said. "Here we say, `Hey, this is your church.' "
Goldhammer agrees that they were once treated that way and he said Bene Shalom was started by a small group of deaf Jews who wanted to change that. They wanted to have the same religious community as other Jews.
At the time, Goldhammer, 46, a French-Canadian born in Quebec, was attending Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati.
"I was sent here to assist and was eventually asked by members if I would like to stay and start a congregation," said Goldhammer, who had no background of working with the deaf.
No so with Mulcrone. He comes from a background where sign was a second language because a grandmother and a grandfather were deaf.
The 47-year-old Chicago native, who has been conducting sign masses for 15 years, is the oldest of eight brothers and sisters. One brother is a Fire Department chaplain, and his mother and a sister teach deaf children.
"I get more out of this than I give," Mulcrone said of his work. "They [the deaf] are very honest, upfront, fun people."
Goldhammer said he finds his job "exceedingly rewarding because I feel in my bosom, in my heart, that I'm doing God's work."
The Esther Knapp Religious School, where 63 hearing and deaf children are taught sign, serves the Bene Shalom congregation, he said. In addition, there is an interfaith social gathering for the deaf alternate Wednesdays.
At a meeting of about 100 Wednesday, Richard Tanzar, 69, president of Bene Shalom, explained in sign that as a youth "there was nothing for us. We didn't have a temple," said the retired printer, whose parent were deaf.
"I remember my father taking me to the temple, but I didn't understand anything. I didn't really know what Judaism was," George Gordon, 78, former president and part owner of a scrap metal company, added in sign.
Casimir Fronczek, 67, a deacon and a chaplain to the deaf with the Catholic Office of the Deaf, said in sign: "It gives me an opportunity to meet people like myself. Catholic or Jewish, we are all sisters and brothers."
"It's a celebration of the deaf community," Goldhammer said of the meetings. "It's not religious, it's just a time for people to come together and socialize."
The social aspect for worshipers at St. Francis Borgia also has become important, Mulcrone said.
"After mass, we meet and have coffee and rolls, because for some of the deaf, except for Sundays, they might spend an entire week working with people who aren't deaf or living in a neighborhood where no one else is deaf and they are the minority. But here, on Sundays, they are the majority.
"They began to socialize for a couple of hours following service, and it came to the point where I had to just tell them, `Last one out, shut off the lights.' "