The year of exhaling (a bit) - תש''פ

The new Hebrew year, 5780, will be written תש''פ. 

That can be translated to mean: to exhale, to blow out, to hiss, to sting or even to blow fiercely. (Isn’t language wonderful?)

Let’s look at the first translation. Rabbi Isaac Luria, often called the ARI, was a mystic who lived in Tz’fat in the 16th century. He told the story of how God had to contract Godself (the Divine Essence) in order to make room to create the universe. He called that act of contraction Tzimtzum – God removed a bit of Godself to make room.

My friend and teacher Joel Grishaver (who may be a descendant of Rabbi Luria) described Tzimtzum as if you had just exhaled after quickly inhaling, making your chest and stomach contract.

Sometimes, when we withdraw a bit of ourselves, we make room for others to step up and take ownership of what is happening around us. That can be particularly useful in experiential learning.

We as teachers have to step back sometimes – just a little – in order to invite the learners to take ownership of their own learning. My wish for the new year – the year of exhaling (a bit) – for us, the teachers, is that we all develop our capacity and the skills needed to draw our learners in deeper and make space for them to step up. Let’s all put a little Tzimtzum into our lesson plans!

(Incidentally, the story goes on that God put the Divine Essence that was removed into vessels made from earthen clay. They cannot hold the Godstuff and shatter. He said our job was to remove the worthless shards of the vessels - sin, bad behavior, evil, etc – from the world and seek out the sparks of Divine Essense – good loving, kind deeds,Mitzvot, etc. This process is called Tikkun Olam – World Repair).

Letters from Camp: How Monday Night Limmud Changed my Jewish Outlook

I have had many reasons to be proud. Today is a new one. One of our former students came to me last winter. She was interested in a career as a Jewish educator. I told her that she must spend at least one summer as a counselor at a Jewish summer camp. While I promoted Crane Lake, Eisner and Olin Sang Ruby - all part of my past or present and development as a Jewish educator, for a variety of reasons, I ended up steering her toward Ramah Nyack. Imagine my delight when I came across the following post in eJewishPhilanthropy.com today!


Clearly there is a difference between a day school and religious school education. Time on task can change things exponentially. Nonetheless, Gabby thrived and grew and I am grateful to her and all of the teachers she had in our program. I look forward to the day I call her colleague.

Letters from Camp: 
How Monday Night Limmud Changed my Jewish Outlook

By Gabby Tropp

This summer I experienced what it feels like to walk into a Jewish community different from my own when I spent my first summer at Jewish camp. Camp Ramah in Nyack, NY, is a unique Jewish camp model. It’s a day camp for our chanichim (young campers) and a sleepaway camp for our tzevet (staff). This means that as much as we have fun with our kids while we teach and learn with them, celebrating their successes and assuaging their fears, after the camp day we have fun with each other, teaching and learning, celebrating and growing.

As a traditional egalitarian community closely linked with the Jewish Theological Seminary and the Conservative Movement, Ramah Nyack strives for, and in my opinion achieves, excellence in Jewish education for kids and staff alike. Twice a week, the members of the Ramah Nyack staff community have the opportunity to hear from and engage with some of the best and brightest thinkers in modern Judaism, among their ranks senior camp staff, counselors, JTS professors, local rabbis, and community leaders.

For me, these limmud (learning) sessions were an outlook-altering opportunity. I was an outsider to the community in some ways, coming from a Reform background and a public school. Through limmud, I was introduced to new perspectives, was challenged in my own opinions, and learned constantly. Perhaps the most eye-opening session for me came on a Monday evening near the end of our kayitz in the form of a program entitled “Standards for Jewish Education.”

For some background on me, this summer marked the first time in my life that my religious observance regularly went beyond attending Kabbalat Shabbat services. I followed the laws of kashrut (keeping kosher), attended Shacharit (morning prayers) three days a week, led my chanichim in t’filah (prayer) every morning, commemorated and fasted for Tisha B’Av, and bensched (said blessings) after meals. Or at least those are all things I was doing by the end of Kayitz 2019. During Week 1, not only were these things foreign to me, but they were rituals and traditions that proved very hard for me to learn. As the days of the summer flew by, my comfort in the Ramah religious community increased.

Then came a huge moment of self doubt during limmud. The Standards for Jewish Education, which outlined “Jewish fluency” benchmarks for day school-educated eighth graders, expected more from those 13-year-old students than I could do. I was still in the process of learning Birkat HaMazon (grace after meals) when I attended this limmud session.

After this initial gut reaction of embarrassment, I asked whether or not it was reasonable to adjust these standards in Jewish fluency taking into account my education, which had significantly less time to prepare me for Jewish adulthood. And the answer was, of course, yes. At the end of the day, my Reform Jewish education had instilled in me a sense of Jewish pride and a passion for Jewish life and learning, which, along with my Ramah experience this summer, has put me on a path to continue developing my fluency in Judaism for the rest of my life.

I may not be as Jewishly literate as the typical day school eighth grader, but it still felt good as a 20-year-old to say Sh’hecheyanu (a milestone-marking prayer) after leading Birkat HaMazon for the first time. Ramah Nyack gave me the confidence, the courage, and the environment to learn and grow. I didn’t expect one summer at camp to change the way I think about Jewish learning or belonging in Jewish spaces, yet the most important lesson I learned this summer is that, while inclusion doesn’t happen overnight, any Jewish community is accessible if you’re willing to ask questions and put effort into finding answers and understanding traditions.

Gabby Tropp is a senior at Lafayette College, studying History, Spanish, and Jewish Studies. An aspiring Jewish Educator, she tries to bring Jewish learning into daily life. She was a student, madrikhah and substitute teacher at Congregation B'nai Israel in Bridgeport, CT.

Flag Raising as a Jewish Act

“At Camp Interlaken (the Milwaukee JCC camp) we had flag raising and lowering every morning and every evening. The whole camp would assemble on the flag rectangle, with the youngest kids closest to the flag. Each unit would do some schtick for the whole camp, twice a day.”

It isn’t relevant why my wife and I were talking about this on the shuttle bus from the parking lot to the terminal at Newark Airport. She reminded me of a time when I was a counselor at Olin Sang Ruby Union Institute (OSRUI) long ago.

The Limud (educational) theme was Kedushah/holiness and my staff team was planning a session on rituals and their meaning. I forget which one of us keyed on morning flag raising (which we also had, but only in the morning), but I do recall that I and I think Deb Schreibman stopped the morning schtick, claiming that the whole thing was an empty meaningless ritual. We Pretty much accused our fellow counselors and the campers of using the flag that represented freedom and sacrifice for a useless and banal (we certainly did not use that word) activity. Then we lowered the flag, folded it properly into a triangle while everyone looked on, mouths open like trout, and said “let’s go to breakfast” as we stomped to the chadar ochel (dining hall).

The campers went bananas. Breakfast was followed by Nikayon (clean up in the bunks) and then I think Limud. Before it began, counselors came up to us and reported that their campers were irate and very upset with Deb and I for essentially profaning the morning ritual. We unpacked it with the campers and they learned that it was just a way to introduce the topic. We realized going in that talking about the relative importance of a ritual is not very interesting unless the learner has some skin in the game.

In our camps, the ritual of flag raising became essential to our camper’s day. It was Modeh Ani and the evening Shema. It was a profound moment of realizing and declaring that we are part of a community. And because the context of these camps were (and remain) completely Jewish, flag raising is a Jewish act.

In our congregation we are moving rapidly to change the way education happens for our students. We are examining pedagogy and focusing much more on the experiences they have while they are with us (and paying attention to the ones they have when they are not with us). We are adjusting the curriculum content to meet the needs of the families in our program now (a regular act, every 12-15 years or so). And we are changing our branding and the story we tell about who we are, what we do and how we do it. We hope this will renew interest by those who have chosen “none of the above” for their children.

Thinking about flag raising, I see it is clear that we also have to create, adapt or adopt new rituals in our program. We are testing the name Kehillah (Community) instead of “Religious School.” The tag line is “Find. Connect. Belong.” I think that will lead us to some interesting (and I hope humorous) rituals. I am open to ideas, so please share your ideas in the comments or send me an email (iwise@cbibpt.org).

What Parents CANNOT Do

From the Resiliency Files
Today's post was originally posted by URJ Eisner Camp - one of my two camp homes. I am sharing because of the quote from Michael Thompson. The eight things parents cannot do should be embroidered on blankets sent home with babies from the hospital. More on this in the coming weeks.

Overnight Camp Is Jewish Education

When you think of providing a Jewish education for your child, you may think of teaching them about their heritage, building a relationship with Israel, and giving them a familiarity with Hebrew. You may think about conveying our core values and celebrating Shabbat. Or perhaps you think of cultivating their spiritual side and providing them with a robust Jewish community. Jewish summer camp can help you give your child a Jewish education in all of these ways. But Jewish overnight camp can also help you give your child a Jewish education by giving them the tools to grow into the best version of themselves and to live independently. 

Dr. Michael Thompson in his book Homesick and Happy: How Time Away from Parents Can Help a Child Grow names eight things we cannot do for our children: 

1. Make them happy
2. Give them high self-esteem
3. Make friends for them or micromanage their friendships
4. Successfully double as our child’s agent, manager, and coach
5. Create the “second family” for which our children yearn in order to facilitate their own growth
6. Compete with or limit children’s immersion in the digital and social media realms
7. Keep them perfectly safe (although we can make them crazy trying!)
8. Make them independent

Overnight camp, according to Dr. Thompson’s research, can give our children the freedom and environment to do many of these things for themselves. 

Maybe learning to become an independent adult does not seem to fall into the realm of goals of Jewish education, but in fact, it does. The word Torah and the word for teacher (moreh/ah) and parent (horeh/ah) all come from the same Hebrew root for the word “instruct”. As parents, the Torah, or instruction, which we must give our children goes well beyond the world of Jewish ritual or even values. The Talmud teaches in Kiddushin 29a: 

Our Rabbis taught: A parent is obligated to do the following for their child*: enter the child into the covenant of the Jewish people, redeem the firstborn [from service in the Temple], teach them Torah, find them a spouse, and teach them a trade. And there are some who also say that a parent must also teach their child to swim. 

Some of these tasks seem obvious–we are obligated to help our children fulfill mitzvot as infants which they could not do for themselves. We want to help them step into adulthood by giving them a marketable skill and the ability to start their own families. But why should we teach them to swim? Perhaps because this is a skill that could save their lives. 

I like to consider this reference to swimming more metaphorically. The ocean is a vast unknown. Its depths are mysterious, ever-changing, and unexplored. If we prepare our children to swim, we acknowledge that the world into which we will send them is unfamiliar to us; we cannot give them the exact tools they will need, nor can we protect them from every uncertainty, but we can prepare them by making them resilient and up to the task of facing the challenges the surely will encounter. This is our charge as Jewish parents, and this is what Jewish summer camp can help us do. 

*This is an updated, gender-inclusive translation.

For more on this topic, listen to this podcast with psychologist Dr. Wendy Mogel, “Teaching to Swim Without a Pool.”

Hello? Is it me you’ Looking for?

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely,
or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying
I love you

By Lionel Richie and Eddy Marnay
© Warner Chappell Music, Inc

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I am not a huge Lionel Richie fan. Don’t dislike him, but I would need need to Shazam the lyrics if I wanted to sing along. Spending as much time and energy thinking about and working to change our religious school, I find myself thinking about this song a lot.

In our synagogue context “you” are the folks that are in the demographic of Jews who in the past have joined synagogues and enrolled their children in Jewish learning programs. “I” am the synagogue, school, educators and clergy as we face the needs of this newest generation.

The research tells us that Millennials (born 1981-1996) and Generation Z (born 1997-present) are indeed spiritual seekers. It also tells us that many of them - maybe even most of them - are pretty sure they won’t find that spirituality they are looking for in legacy institutions like synagogues or churches.

You can Google and find stories from 20 and 40 and I would bet 60 years ago where leaders of those same legacy institutions bemoan the likelihood that the “new” generation is going to turn its back on faith and tradition. They insist that we need to make everything anew to meet their needs. And you can find articles from those same times that say “Just wait. They will have children and will want those children to go to religious school and become B’nai Mitzvah. And that is what happened more often than not.

So perhaps we should just wait out the current existential crisis.

Ummmm...no. I don’t think that is a good idea. You see, my great grandfather Abraham Seidenfeld came to the US from Łódź, Poland in 1913. My son Ethan is a Millennial and Harper is Generation Z.  They are FIFTH generation Americans. I imagine your children are also 5th or even 6th generation Americans. (Perhaps not, especially if you or your parents came from the former Soviet Union, but that is not a huge percentage of American Jews.)

There is a fair amount of research that documents how with each additional generation following immigration, commitment to certain ethnic or religious traditions wanes more and more. We may keep a sense of identification, but we often lose the habits that go with it. This applies to every immigrant group, not just Ashkenazi Jews. There are studies that focus on Japanese, Italian and even Irish immigrants, to name a few.

So while my parents were pretty sure about me and my fellow baby boomers,I am not sure about our kids. When I was young I knew and loved my immigrant ancestors. I made pilgrimage to Łódź last summer and had coffee on a balcony that was in the location where my Grandma Honey lived before coming here as a little girl. She died two years before I became a father.

We cannot rely on the same expectations we once did. Millennial parents often don’t feel the same pull of tradition as Baby Boomers or even Generation Xers. We are still trying to figure out what “you” are looking for. We are not relying on hope and prayers to sustain our synagogues or larger Jewish communities. We are trying to enter into a conversation.

And we start by saying “I love you.”

And we continue by listening. More next week.

I just returned from a week serving on the faculty of Crane Lake Camp in West Stockbridge,  MA. It is the third URJ camp I have been proud to serve, in addition to Eisner Camp and Olin Ruby Union Institute. I was asked to write a post for the camp blog, which is largely directed at parents of campers as well as the lay and professional leaders in the Northeast. 

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Every day at Crane Lake Camp is filled with fun and engaging activity. Sports, arts, drama and just hanging out with friends – like most summer camps – are a part of every camper’s experience. At CLC, there is a Jewish context that takes those same experiences a little further.

Our all-camp middah (Jewish Value) of the week is Ga’avah – Pride. For much of the week, we have focused on learning to be proud of our Jewish identities, of our community and our actions in support of one another.

During Limud[i] the other day, a group of Bonim campers were at the low ropes course to explore the middah of courage or ometz lev. When they were not exploring it by attempting elements of the course they were talking about different aspects of courage with staff and faculty.

During one discussion, the topic was “Fear of Failure.” It was apparent that many of these young campers had wrestled with that one. They shared what it meant to them, steps they might take to overcome it and even some examples of when they had faced that fear.

One thing that stood out was that there have definitely been times in their very young lives that they have felt unworthy of even trying to succeed.They shared their self-doubt. And then they moved to dispel those fears in their friends. I have to say that they were all very supportive and encouraged one another to move beyond that fear.

The next morning, I shared a story during the “Words of Wisdom” portion of morning t’filah. Many of us know the midrash[ii] that suggests we should each keep two pieces of paper in our pockets. One should say “The world was created for my sake” and other “I am but dust and ashes.”

We often share this midrash in order to talk about humility, since we are supposed to read the second message when we feel arrogant or overly prideful.

Inspired by those Bonim campers’ words to one another I suggested that we all need to focus a little more on the other message, that the world was created for our sake. If you believe – as I do – that each of us was ultimately created by God – then we are created in God’s image. And God doesn’t make junk.

When we doubt ourselves, questioning our worthiness, we have to remember that each of us matters. Camp would be diminished and far less amazing if even one of us were not here.

Listening to our campers reach out and support one another, they taught each other – and me – that being proud also means that “YOU MATTER.”

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[i] Limud means learning. At CLC, we spend some time specifically focused on learning about Jewish values – middot – through a variety of experiential means. It is still fun, but the idea that we are learning something in the process is clearly stated.

[ii] Originally credited to Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Pryszska.

The Sounds of our People

I grew up with a mother who loved WFMF radio in Chicago. Today we would call it “easy listening” but to mom it was the music she always loved. Henry Mancini. Mel Torme. Steve Lawrence and Edie Gorme. Tony Bennet. You know, old people music – at least it was to a teenager in the 70’s.[1] Of course my music was very different. Meatloaf. Simon and Garfunkel. The Grateful Dead. Supertramp.

We both loved Debbie Friedman and Kol B’seder – two of the many amazing sources of Jewish music that started to appear in the early 70’s. If you come to services this (or any) Shabbat you are certain to hear some of their music. Each generation finds its own sound, its own beat. Our musical choices say something about us. While the sound reveals a great deal, the lyrics – the poetry – says even more.

Whenever we greet new Shinshinim – Young Israeli Emissaries – I ask them what Israeli artists they have on their playlists. I often buy the music they suggest and I listen to it for my own enjoyment and I also play it on the loudspeakers in the school as students arrive and depart for Religious School.

The poetry of Israeli music is fascinating to me. On the one hand it often reflects the current mood and reality of life in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem or even in the desert. On the other hand, because bible is taught in the public schools as a source of our history, many Israeli songwriters use words and imagery that comes directly from the Torah, or the Prophets or even the Psalms. To the average Israeli, this is part of the everyday vernacular. To an American Jew who is listening to and reading the words, it is a revelation.

Sometimes we will share the lyrics in translation with our students as a way of unpacking the meaning of song. We will look at its biblical sources (if there are any) and look at how the story the song tells reflects current reality on the streets and in the homes of Israel. We use it to open a window into the lives of our cousins across the ocean.

Yuval and Rotem, our current Shinshinim, have created a bulletin board near the stairs in our school wing. You can see that it looks like a Spotify page. They introduce us to some Israeli songs and artists. It also has a special Spotify bar code. If you have Spotify on your phone you can use its scanning feature to scan the bar code. This will give you access to Yuval and Rotem’s 93 song Israeli Music playlist. I urge you to scan it and start listening. They include songs from many genres and generations of Israeli music. Get to know Shlomo Artzi, who is as big as Elton John or Paul McCartney over there – and from their generation. Or listen to Idan Reichel who brings in musicians from all over the world. Let your ears bring the sounds of Israel to you.

Scan this image from within the Spotify App to access the Playlist

The purpose of the Young Emissary program is to create a living bridge between our community and the land and people of Israel. It is a program cosponsored by all of the area synagogues and the Federation for Jewish Philanthropy. And it relies on each of us to help. Yuval and Rotem will return to Israel and begin their military service after the summer.

We will welcome new Shinshinim in September. If your community has a program like this, please think about inviting one of them to live in your home for 3 months or so. We did and we talk or text with Lidor every week. It changed us for the better. Please email, call or visit the coordinator in your community to talk about whether hosting an emissary is right for you!

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[1] Full disclosure, I now love Mel Torme and most of Mom’s favorites, but I listen to it when I am alone in the car.

Words Matter. Actions Matter More.

This is Jacob, one of our Hadrakhahnikim
helping students and parents!

Language is a funny thing. Since we also teach (and pray in) Hebrew in our school, it can be twice as challenging for us. For twenty three years, we have put two teenagers in most of our Sunday classrooms that serve younger students. Originally just Gan – Kitah Gimel (K – 3), since 2010 we have also done so through Kitah Vav (6th grade). Our goal for them was threefold: 1) they served as role models to younger students, both in terms of classroom behaviors and as something to which they might aspire; 2) the teens provided a teacher with additional eyes, ears, hands and legs. As the teenager develops skills, the possibilities for creative learning expands exponentially for the class; and 3) the teens develop into pretty well trained teachers themselves. I have helped them find jobs near their colleges and two of them have returned to teach for us here!

For all of that time, we called them madrikhim. It literally means “those who show the way,” deriving from the route derekh, which means road or path. Madrikhim describes a group of them, with at least one member of the group being male. A single male would be a madrikh, a single female a madrikhah, and an all-female group would be madrikhot. A nice word, very descriptive. But language is a funny thing. Hebrew is a gendered language. And we have two veterans of that group who each prefer to be called they/them instead of he/him or she/her. Hebrew gives us no help.

Our Jewish values can give us a clue. Genesis says that the first human was created in God’s image (B’tzelem Elohim). It does not tell us that the image in question is about physical attributes, even though many through history have thought so. The Gevurot prayer, which we chant at every service praises God for all of the things God is described as doing in the Torah – redeeming the captives, freeing the slaves, visiting the sick (to name three). It suggests that this B’tzelem Elohim business is about how we have been created with the ability to do the stuff God does.

If Torah has taught me anything, it (and my parents) has taught me to make my home – and our synagogue – a place where ALL will feel welcome. That includes people whose understanding of themselves is different from what others might choose to think. So the Religious School Vision Team and the faculty have agreed that we should no longer use the various forms of the word madrikh to describe our teen educational leaders. Instead we will refer to the program in which they participate as Team Hadrakhah. Same root, but the translation is “Leadership” which is perfectly descriptive. While the word may be in the feminine form, we are not using it to label the gender of those in it. We will refer to them as Hadrakhahniks (like Kibbutznik!) if we need a descriptor like that.

The hadrakhahniks, parents and teachers now understand all of this. The younger kids likely won’t notice. They tend to be more interested in knowing the teen in their classroom by name and relating to them, rather than what name we adults use. And hopefully, if one of our pre-teens is struggling with issues of personal gender identity, they will hear the message and know this is always a safe space for them. And that here we have people with whom they can talk. Language is powerful.

On Being Chosen

When you share print things other people say, it can go one of two ways. If you claim their words as your own, it is plagiarism. And that is not a good thing. On the other hand, Pirkei Avot 6.6 says that “one who says something in the name of the one who said it brings redemption to the world.” Our world is definite need of redemption, so let’s hear from those who have taught us best – our students!

In Kitah Hey (5th grade) at my school, Susan Walden asked her students to pair up and pretend to be Moses. As Moses they had to answer the question “Why did God choose me (of all people) to lead the Israelites out of Egypt?” Their answers are brilliant in so many ways…these are excerpts from much longer answers.

• “God said I was honest, selfless and brave and I respect Him/Her. Maybe I should take the chance!” – Rachel and Lila
• “I think God chose me to lead the Israelites because I followed God’s command.” – Kate and Ethan
• “God chose me because He noticed me having compassion and putting others before myself.” – Adam and Jack
• “As a leader I give the people what they want and inspire them to do what they do.” – Brooke and Isaac
• “I realized that the Israelites are important and they were suffering.” – Ruby and Sophia

As I read their answers, I hear three things. First I hear the plain meaning – what the rabbis call the p’shat. They are learning the stories. They are getting the information.

Second, I hear them putting themselves into the Torah. All of their answers are in the first person – “I realized,” “I was honest.” “I followed.” By writing themselves into the story, by trying to see through Moses’ eyes, they are interpreting the text. The rabbis called this drash.

Finally, I hear a clue of where these stories are taking them. “I was honest, selfless and brave.” “I had compassion and put others before myself.” The rabbis referred to these clues in the text as remez. The remez here is also about what we are seeing these young people becoming. If they could not see themselves as possibly having these qualities, I am not sure they would have answered the same way.

It is exciting to see learning happen. You can almost visualize the gears turning or the flow of electrons if you prefer the digital version. It is exciting to see teachers like Susan make this happen by challenging the students to dig deep into themselves.

And I visualize these same students in five years as members of our Confirmation class. Just as this year’s class did a few weeks ago, they will travel to Washington D.C. with our rabbi. They will use the skills of discerning the plain meaning, interpretation and seeking clues as they encounter issues before Congress. They will stake out a position rooted in Jewish values. Then they will go up to Capitol Hill and tell our representatives how thy expect them to vote.

It is a powerful lesson. And it started in Kitah Hey. And in Gan (K). And in all the grades in between.

Yes, I am conflicted. Yes, I love Israel. Yes I am going (as often as I can).

I love Israel. I hope you do to.

There is not a “but” or an “except” that follows that statement. That is the thing about love. When you love someone, you love them. You love them even though you know they are not perfect. You love them even though they make you sometimes want to be in a different physical space when they are doing or saying something. You love them even when they do things that fly in the face of everything they have always said they believe in. You even love them when they choose to believe something else.

I will not recap the news for you. The government of Israel has done a number of things that some of us wish they hadn’t. By the way, some of us wish they had done it sooner and with greater impact – that is the nature of family, we don’t always agree. On college campuses and in the leadership of several movements that some of us have felt drawn to, there have been profound attacks on Israel and those who believe in her.

Our Israeli "son" Lidor,
who lived with us for four months

Even some Jews have decided that the actions of the government make it impossible to support Israel at all. And there are certainly moments when I wish that many of those actions were different. And I still love Israel. I love Israelis. Not all of them, but I have a lot of friends and some family there. All of our shinshinim are there and I try to visit many of them whenever I visit.

I love the fact that I can walk the streets of Jerusalem and feel like I am not a tourist, but in my second home. I love that I am finally starting to explore Tel Aviv. I love the stories of the building of the nation and have had the privilege to meet some of the non-famous people who helped to build it. And I love that I feel it is mine. It is family.

And that means even when I am disappointed, I still love Israel.

In our curriculum, and with the help of our teachers and the shinshinim, we are trying to help our students find that kind of connection. That is why our Kitah Hey (5th grade) students have an ongoing relationship with their peers at the Nitzavim School in Rishon L’Tzion south of Tel Aviv. And that is why we encourage our teenagers and adults to travel to Israel.

For the past five summers I have chaperoned the NFTY L’dor Vador trips on their first leg through Eastern Europe on their way to Israel. We explore a thousand years of Jewish life in Europe and the yearning hose Jews had to return to Eretz Yisrael – the land of Israel. We also explore the tragic end of most of those communities. Then I escort them to Israel as they begin a four week adventure, and hopefully turn their connection with Israel into a love affair.

We need your help. Read the news. If, like many American Jews you have avoided engaging in Israel because it is complicated and sometimes troubling, stop. Engage. Form an opinion that allows you to engage. I urge you not give up on Israel, but rise to the challenge of imagining a peaceful, complete Israel. And talk about it with your kids. We cannot make them love it if you don’t.

I hope you will note that I have not told you what opinions to have about Israel. That is not up to me. I just want you to engage and teach your children to engage. Because this is about family. I can remember signs that once said “America. Love it or leave it.” I hope that you will join me in loving Israel. Leaving it is unthinkable to me – even from this side of the Atlantic.

And plan on sending your child or your family to Israel. If not this summer then soon.

Won't You Be my Neighbor?

We all have our heroes.

Some of them are athletes. Ernie Banks. Walter Payton.
Some of them are fictional. Winne the Pooh. Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee.
Some are intellectuals. Rambam. Spinoza.

All of the people or characters whom I think of as my heroes have something in common. They have taught me something important that goes beyond the accomplishments that brought them fame. Ernie Banks taught me to appreciate the world God gave us. Walter Payton taught me about loyalty, perseverance and living my values.

I also have at least two heroes who were teachers. Janusz Korcazk and Fred Rogers. I will write about Korczak soon. Last night I gave myself a treat and went to see the film Won't you be my neighbor? It tells the story of Fred Rogers and Mr. Rogers' neighborhood. I should have brought a tissue.

I am not writing a full review of the film. You can find A.O. Scott's New York Times review here.

I didn't discover Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood until I was a little too old to be his primary audience. He would say that I am still his primary audience. When she was little, my sister Leslie like to watch Daniel Striped Tiger and X the Owl in the Land of Make Believe. I was 10 or 11, old enough to know it wasn't really for me, but not so jaded that I didn't love to watch it. Sometimes I would watch it without Leslie there.

It wasn't until I became a camp counselor (when Leslie was 10) that I began to understand what Mr. Rogers had taught me. And I didn't realize HE had been the one to teach it to me until I met one of his biggest friends (fan seems an incomplete term).

If you see the film, you will meet Jeffrey Erlanger. He is the young man in the motorized wheelchair who appears on the television show as a little boy and again during the credits when he surprised Mr. Rogers during his induction to the Television Hall of Fame. You can read about Jeff's friendship with Fred Rogers here.

I was blessed to have Jeff as a camper in my cabin during his first summer at Olin Sang Ruby Union Institute. It wasn't always easy, but it was truly a blessing.Our first day, we sat the guys in a circle in the cabin and Jeff invited them all to ask him any questions they wanted about him, his physical condition and his chair. It took all of three minutes before they were bored of talking about his condition. Once they knew what they needed to be cautious about, they were only interested in getting to know all of their new friends, of whom Jeff was one.

Except for the physical assistance he required, none of the boys - including Jeff - acted, spoke or made us counselors feel like he was any different than the rest of them. It was awesome. I cannot claim the credit. Camp is camp and kids are kids. No one told them anything strange was happening, and so nothing did.

Until the day one of the kids asked me if I thought Jeff really knew Mr. Rogers. It seems that one night after the counselors had left he told them that when he was little, his family had driven to Milwaukee, stayed at a hotel and ate lunch with Mr. Rogers. Wow. Some of the boys were certain it could not be true. Others were convinced it was.

So we talked about it at Minucha - rest time. Jeff described the event. He told us that Mr. Rogers was his friend. He had been since the first time Jeff had seen him on TV. The doubters took that to mean that Jeff had imagined a real relationship. My co-counselors and I looked at each other. They shrugged, which I took to mean I had to pass judgment.

I asked the boys "Has Jeff said or done anything to make you think he is dishonest? Has he ever lied to you, or promised to do something that he then did not do? Has he ever let you down?"

They all said no.

I asked them if any of them had ever done any of those things in the week we had been together.

They all said no.

I said "I don't know whether Jeff really met Mr. Rogers in Milwaukee. I do know that Mr. Rogers always calls everyone he meets or who sees him on television his friend. From what I understand, Mr. Rogers always really means it. He is always glad to meet a friend. I also know that Jeff has always been honest and real with all of us. So if he says it happened, that is all the proof I will ever need."

The show in which Jeff appeared aired about a year later. I have no memory as to whether it had been taped before we shared a cabin in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. I do know that it proved to any doubters that as we already knew, Jeff had told the truth. And that he would never treat his friends - us - any way other than honestly, openly and authentically.

I cried when I watched the film. Seeing all of Fred Rogers' work in one sitting like that was overwhelming. I recommend reading some of his writing. It is essential reading for educators and parents. I also cried because seeing Jeff on the screen reminded me not only of him, but of all of my campers over the years and how knowing each of them impacted who I am today.
Thanks Jeff.
Thanks Mr. Rogers.
Thanks for reminding me that camp is for the campers.
That the experience of our learners is more important than any one datum.

It's you I like.

Why Camp: Living Values L’dor V’dor

And...we're back! A lot has happened since my last post, including serving seven months as the content coordinator for JeducationWorld.com.

This is a moment of schepping nachas (Yiddish for taking pride in something someone has done) for me. The author of this piece, Sarah Stein is one of my kids. That is to say that her formal Jewish education was in my religious school, I recruited her to be a camper at URJ Crane Lake Camp and I have been her teacher and supporter all along. Of course she has done amazing things - nearly all of which I had no hand in accomplishing - and I am proud to have been one of the people cheering her on. The was originally published on the Crane Lake Camp blog.

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by Sarah Stein, Unit Head Team Leader

This past week, I attended an evening program with Crane Lake’s Olim Girls, the rising 10^th graders, our oldest campers. Many of them had been my very first campers when they were in Nitzanim, entering 4^th grade, as our youngest campers. The program was about female empowerment, and I just sat, watching, listening, and learning from these young women I had once been a counselor for. Throughout the year, I had seen so many of them standing up and speaking out for causes that they are passionate about, embodying the values we live by during the summer. I watched in awe and admiration as they came together after a long, hot day, lifting each other up. They spoke eloquently about the struggles they face as teenage girls, and how camp is an escape for them. Camp is a place where they feel heard and loved, a place that is fueled by the value of Chesed, a place where we have created a Culture of Kindness; and a place that has provided all of these things for me.

My first year at Crane Lake was in 2006, the summer before entering 6^th grade. I was a quiet child, but each summer at camp, I saw myself growing. I began coming out of my shell, finding my voice, stepping up as a leader, but still staying true to my inner self. I feel my most confident, my most challenged, and like the best version of myself when I am at camp.

Inside of our red gates, I always knew I was not only accepted, but celebrated for who I am. I came to camp from a town where the Jewish population at our school was pretty much just me and my brother. I attended Hebrew School and had Jewish friends from Temple, but I had never felt so immersed in a Jewish community. It was remarkable to me how effortlessly Judaism was infused into our everyday camp lives, our values present at every activity period. T’filah drew me in with the beautiful music and elaborate hand motions, and always has this energy that I find incredibly comforting. It made me feel welcomed and inspired.

At the start of Leadership Team training each year, the Directors challenge us to “discover our why” – our motivation for being at camp, the lasting impact we hope to create. My why is that I believe we can change the world by raising the next generation of leaders. I hope to share with the campers and counselors the important lessons and values I continue to take away from Crane Lake; the values of having courage and speaking out, of being generous and openminded and kind. During the year, I work at a temple in a shared position with the URJ, and I’m able to bridge the kehilah kedoshah, the holy community we create at camp, with the greater Jewish community. I hope to create spaces where campers, staff, students and teachers, feel loved and accepted, can flourish and find their confidence, discover who they are, and then share that with the world.

Sarah is in the dark blue shirt in the middle

At camp, we have the opportunity to find a spark in every child. Crane Lake’s mission statement declares “Hineini, I am here”. I have heard the phrases that follow this declaration read through the collective voice of our community year after year, at the start of every staff training and during every opening ceremony. When I leave the Berkshires at the end of the summer, I take those echoing voices with me. Throughout the year, I find myself constantly repeating a piece of Crane Lake’s mission statement in all the work that I do – “I am here to do as much as I can, in the time that I have, in the place that I am, and to inspire others to join me in this holy work.”

This statement, our mission, asks every counselor, camper, staff member, and guest to live to their fullest potential, to be present in every moment, and to take advantage of every opportunity. But it also acknowledges that there are limitations. While we may each strive to do as much as we can, in the time that we have, we are able to accomplish so much more together. To me, Crane Lake is a place where I feel loved, accepted and celebrated for who I am. At camp, I am in a place where I can lift others up, and invite and inspire them to fulfill their own potential. This is what I saw in the Olim Girls last week, and this, to me, is the embodiment of camp. I guided the Olim Girls when they were younger. I was able to show them the magnitude of their potential at camp, and all that they can take away from every summer. And now, I have the honor of watching them shine, of seeing them flourish as leaders in the camp community and then bring that courage and perseverance out into the world, inspiring their own campers, and creating their own future.

Sarah as a young camper

Sarah is so excited to be back home for her 13th summer at Crane Lake! She is looking forward to spending time at the lake, eating grilled cheese, and getting to know everyone on camp. Sarah is originally from Stratford, Connecticut. She studied Business and Anthropology at Brandeis University, and spent this past year working in Youth Engagement at Temple Shalom of Newton, MA. After the summer, Sarah is looking forward to moving to New York to become the Youth Director at Temple Israel of the City of New York!

Don't Play With the Nazis! Laugh At Them.

Dear Amy Schumer, Aziz Ansari, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Eddie Izzard, Henry Cho, Janeane Garofalo, Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Hart, Louis C.K., Margaret Cho, Maz Jobrani, Patton Oswalt, Sarah Silverman, Tig Notaro and Wanda Sykes:

America needs your help, right now. And we need all of your funny friends and colleagues who I did not name (I just chose the sixteen who make me laugh the most, and who also represent so many demographic groups hated by the Nazis) but don’t have room to include.

I have been reading about a number of places around the country where groups are applying for permits to have demonstrations similar in nature (to varying degrees) to the “Unite the Right Rally” in Charlottesville, VA last weekend. Some will be held this weekend. An old friend from my high school youth group days who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area had posted about one such permit request on Facebook. She was joining others who were asking friends to contact various public officials connected to the permitting process to urge them not to grant the permit.

Here is my response to her:

So when the Nazis marched in Skokie, Illinois in 1977, I lived in the area as a teenager. Skokie at the time had a huge Jewish population, including a lot of survivors. All of the youth movements joined the adult organizations in deliberating what to do in advance of the rally.

I will skip the long story. We all eventually agreed with ACLU that in America, we have to let them march and speak. But in America, we don't need to listen. We went out of our way as a community to empty the streets, leaving a dozen idiots with a megaphone on display to a bunch of journalists. And a handful of Kahane followers from the JDL. (At least that's who showed up when they finally marched in Chicago the next year. They never marched in Skokie even though they won the right to do so.)

It was beautiful. I am not critical of those who went to Charlottesville to protest the hatred. I stand with them. And if that is the decision in New York or Boston, I will stand there as well.

But I do wonder how much coverage these anti-American idiots would have gotten if there was no one for them to fight.

Maybe the best move would be to have an anti-Hatred comedy festival across the bay from these mouth breathers. Let them play in the park by themselves while everyone with a brain and true love for America and all it stands for and promises, with the whole spectrum of skin tones, faiths, identities, political preferences and countries of ancestral origin represented comes to hear the funniest people in America tell jokes about the fools who "don't want to be replaced?" (And who wants their places anyway? I am sure they smell by now.)

I do believe that these feckless idiots (yes, I am judging) have every right to march and speak. The Boston Common or a Park in San Francisco or the public land in Mountain View, CA in view of the Google campus are theirs as much as they are ours. And these open spaces are not crowded theaters. No one is shouting fire.

We love the Constitution and the First Amendment. They give us our lives and meaning as Americans. And if one group can silence another in the public arena, then in the words of Sir Paul McCartney, we are “Back in the USSR.” So yes they get to hold their little rallies.

So Amy, Aziz, Chris, Dave, Eddie, Henry, Janeane, Jerry, Kevin, Louis, Margaret, Maz, Patton, Sarah, Tig and Wanda (and friends) – this is where you all come in. We need you more than ever. We need you to put on a Summer of Love and Laughter. Many of you have been tweeting your outrage (and making us laugh). Let’s take the show on the road!

Maybe in small groups you can set up in a public space ten miles away from wherever the Nazis, White Supremacists and their fellow idiots (let's not give them the cover of calling them the "Alt-Right") get their permits. Invite everybody who stands against them to come out for a few hours of laughter. Invite food truck owners to serve. Invite other artists to perform. And give the Nazis an empty space.

In his commentary about the Charlottesville events and why David Duke and the Nazis like Donald Trump, John Oliver suggested that Nazis were a lot like cats. If they like you, it is only because you are feeding them.

So come on comedians – Unite! Starve the Nazis for attention. And help us laugh at them.