Oy to the World?

Getting back into the blog, posting some older pieces that never went online. 

If you have spent five minutes on social media, Amazon or in Homegoods, you have likely seen a mug, napkins, a sweater or a pair of socks with an image of a Chanukiah (Chanukah Menorah) with the phrase “Oy to the World!” imprinted on it. I am not going to rant about mixing Christmas-based phrases with Chanukah imagery – although I am sure that among us we have many different opinions. I hope that as members of a Reform congregation, we can agree that many of our homes mix the themes, images and phrases quite readily – since the members of our families and friend groupings bring so many different ideas and beliefs to the table, and enrich us all.

I want to spend a moment looking at why we should be a little more careful to keep these two celebrations a little bit separate. I am not so concerned with one “winning” over the other. Adam Sandler’s song notwithstanding, I do not really think there is a competition. One of the core values in Kehilah and at B’nai Israel as a whole is Derekh Eretz – literally “the way of the land.” A good interpretation might be “doing the right thing.”

Let’s look at the significance of each celebration to those who hold it dear. To believing, practicing Christians, Christmas and Easter are the High Holy Days. They celebrate the birth and the resurrection of the central figure of their faith. Trees, carols, gifts and retail sales are not actually part of the central belief system. Sure, they are part of how many – perhaps most – who celebrate choose to do so. If we were try and name the two Jewish holy days on par in terms of importance, I think we would all come to agree that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are our two most sacred days.

Chanukah on the other hand – while a completely awesome holiday, especially for kids – is of relatively minor importance from a religious perspective. In fact, the rabbis of the Mishnah and Talmud (200 BCE – 500 CE) did not think any of the four Books of the Macabees were suitable for inclusion in the collection we now call the Hebrew Bible. They felt the events were too recent to be raised to the level of sacred text. (And there may have been some concern that the Maccabean kings were not descendants of King David, yet another story.) In Israel, Chanukah is very popular as a celebration of Jewish independence. And the winter school/work break is timed to whenever Chanukah falls.

Scholars like to point out that the timing of these holidays have less to do with the religious/historical events they celebrate and more with the emotional/spiritual need for light at the darkest time of the year. And that likely predates both faiths. Okay.

Let me suggest we rejoice in Chanukah. Let’s make latkes and sufganiyot. Let’s spin dreidels and tell the story of the Macabees. Let’s give tzedakah – which is a part of nearly all of our celebrations. And let’s support our Christian friends and family members in their celebration of Christmas in whatever way is meaningful to them.

And let’s be clear that each celebration has a unique meaning. One is not better than the other. If it is your celebration, it is wonderful. Chanukah does not need to borrow memes or slogans from Christmas. Both holidays have one more thing in common – bringing people together to celebrate and be with one another. Let’s do that too!

Chag Chanukah Sameach! (Happy Chanukah!)

Ira

 

 

Even the way you hold your glass matters

On August 28th the world tipped a little further on its side for some of us. That was the day Mark S. Shapiro, my rabbi, died. Now there have been a number of rabbis who I have called MY rabbi. MSS, as many of us who speak or write about him, was my first rabbi. We joined B'nai Jehoshua Beth Elohim when I was entering second grade in 1968. My Grampa Leo had died that summer, and sometime before he did , he told my mom it was time I started Hebrew school.

MSS was not just the rabbi who told Chelm stories on the bimah and gave you a pen with the temple's name on it when he called up all of the September birthday kids. (It was usually in pieces before the Oneg.) He was not just the rabbi encouraged us all to go to Olin Sang Ruby Union Institute. He was not just the rabbi who pulled out his guitar and sang "We're in the same boat brother."

"I see you." Many others have written about that Na'vi greeting in the movie Avatar means so incredibly much. it is about seeing deeper than the surface. It is about seeing the person inside the wrapper. MSS saw each of us. It wasn't that he knew what felt or thought - although sometimes it seemed he did. The idea, and I have now heard may who knew him describe it different ways, is that no matter who you were or how old you were, he listened. He saw you. And he was happy to wait until you showed yourself, and got to see him back. And he taught me - and many others - the patience to see others.

I started a closed Facebook group called "I am a Jewish Leader and Mark S. Shapiro was my rabbi!" many years ago. Dozens of us went on to become Jewish professionals. Dozens more became teachers and lay leaders in Jewish communities around the world. What follows is something I posted there two weeks after MSS died. I realize now, that he was teaching us how to try and see God in our actions and in one another.

I am not usually one to post in Shabbat. The dishes are done and I wanted to share a teaching I learned from MSS that I shared two weeks ago tonight with my family (not for the first time). So close your books (this is what MSS would say when it was time for the sermon).

It may have been at temple. It may have been in the Rotunda at OSRUI, either in the summer or on retreat. We were all about to sing the Kiddush when rabbi looked around and said (approximately-it was at least 40 years ago):

"It is important to think about how you hold your Kiddish cup. When you are holding it up high with one hand it looks like you are making a toast. Not a bad thing - maybe 'Here's to You, God.'

But we are not drinking a toast. We are saying Kiddush, making Shabbat holy with our blessing. So we should hold it in two hands because we are receiving a gift...the gift of Shabbat."

Thanks rabbi. I have taught that to my students and campers ever since. Shabbat shalom y'all.

Virtual Experiential Education: It Works!

I do not believe that anyone who is reading this does not already know about eJewishPhilanthropy.com, an amazing curated blog that covers Jewish Philanthropy and Jewish Education. "To assist organizations progress as they adapt to the continuing changes and challenges of the 21st Century, eJewish Philanthropy was launched in 2007 as an independent on-line publisher and a facilitator of resource mobilization serving the professional Jewish community."

There are some very important articles that originate or end up there. This is on of them. If you want to make a comment, I urge you to so on their page: https://ejewishphilanthropy.com/virtual-experiential-education-it-works/ in order to engage in the wider conversation. I include the article here because I think it is relevant and would like to talk about it with you.

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Virtual Experiential Education: It Works!

By Anna Serviansky

In designing JustCity/CityStage 2.0, JTS’s Pre-College summer program for teens, our team of educators intentionally crafted a setting and learning environment where the objectives of experiential education would be met. While we were unsure how this unchartered territory of an online format versus the in-person experience we had curated for years would be received, it took only the first day of seeing the program unfold in action to realize that our careful planning was producing the results we hoped for. A community of learners was formed, the social emotional needs of the group were met, and the teens were excited to learn in the dynamic, experiential environment we engineered. As we step back to review what made our program a success, I can distill the elements that took place and see that in fact they mirror what researchers have been studying for decades.

While some might question whether excellent experiential education can happen online, if certain conditions are present, then the setting is less important and learning outcomes will be met in the positive, reflective manner that contributes to the personal growth of our learners. While informal Jewish education, which includes experiential education, tends to be tied to say the place of camp, JCC, youth movement, or synagogue as juxtaposed to the formal classroom setting, this notion of “place” is becoming less important to where informal and experiential education can thrive and accelerate outcomes.

In fact, as Dr. Barry Chazan writes describing informal Jewish education, “It works by creating venues, by developing a total educational culture, and by co-opting the social context … it does not call for any one venue but may happen in a variety of settings.” (Chazan, The Philosophy of Informal Jewish Education, 35). Our finding was that indeed, in our virtual platform, we were able to create a venue and social context where our learners could process their own Jewish identity within the current milieu among a community of like-minded peers and knowledgeable educators.

Moreover, reviewing Dr. Jeffrey Kress’s rubric of quality experiential Jewish education, we have a road map for not only what made our program successful, but also what can be translated to future impactful virtual programs. (Kress, Experiential Jewish Education Has Arrived! Now What?, 326). I will divide this rubric into two categories and explore how we might continue to make use of the six elements he outlines.

Logistics, Relationships, and Participant Involvement. Our schedule was modified to meet the needs of our participants and educators (ibid). We had three sessions spread throughout the day with ample breaks. Our first class was a text-based class on Judaism and justice that used contemporary and ancient writings as a jumping off point for students to relate to their own questions on certain justice issues from immigration to the environment and more. Our second class was a creative arts workshop where learners had an opportunity to explore those justice topics deeper through poetry, song, and theater. And at the conclusion of each day, a third educator facilitated participant involvement where teens planned their own reflections and social activities. All of the educators nurtured learning environments where they modeled how to do Judaism and social justice and how to form a community around these issues from different perspectives that teens could relate to. They also purposefully constructed relationships between the teens themselves throughout their programming.

Ritual, Spirituality, Programmatic/Developmental Elements. For a pluralistic program like ours, we celebrated Shabbat Friday afternoons with reflections, divrei torah, and singing. As when we are in person, we continued our model of a diversity of forms of spiritual exploration and reflection tools not only during Shabbat, but also as a way to process our learning, both context and social-emotional, through journaling, the arts, and more. The positive energy of our educators who used music, creative check ins, and digital strategies transferred to our teens who often wanted to hang out outside of scheduled times. And, we focused on opportunities where our learners could become skilled practitioners, applying what they learned in real time from how to study a Jewish text to how to advocate for causes to how to have tough conversations with those of differing views.

Our virtual program included all six of those elements that comprise excellent Jewish experiential education. And, so, perhaps we should not have been surprised that the “venue” itself did not matter and that a virtual program can provide learners with what they need. In their own words, teens reflected on the power of this experience:

“I didn’t think I’d create the same bonds I have at other summer programs because we were online and not spending time together 24/7, but I was so wrong. I made so many friends, and it’s just been so amazing!” Miriam S.

“My favorite thing about this program was getting to learn from my peers. Rather than just being talked at by our teachers, we were able to have open discussions and hear each other’s ideas on relevant issues. I also really loved being able to connect Jewish texts to modern day social justice issues. I had never done that before, and it was super interesting.” Yaya S.

The hallmark of any good experiential Jewish education to my mind is when the participants do not want the experience to be over. Many of them wished they could continue their learning together and spoke extensively about how much they had appreciated the community during a challenging summer. And so, while the world is changed, we must continue to bring the very best of experiential Jewish education virtually, and when we do so, we will continue to meet our objectives of developing strong connections to Judaism and to one another.

Anna Serviansky is Associate Dean of List College and the Kekst Graduate School and the Director of JTS Pre-College.

Civilly Speaking: A Curriculum on Civil Discourse (redux)

In the summer of 2018, Harlene Appelman, a mentor, friend and the Executive Director of the Covenant Foundation asked me and Joel Lurie Grishaver (also a mentor, friend and the Creative Chair of Torah Aura Productions) to create a curriculum on civil discourse.

She looked at the public environment and saw and heard people shouting at the top of their voices. And using language that would have gotten your mouth washed out with soap - at least if you grew up before the 1980's. Few people in the public sphere were listening to one another. Conversations were often no longer a free exchange of ideas leading to people making up their own minds, or even for seeking common ground to move forward together. They became competitive events to be won or lost.

Harlene was clear - we could not take sides in this curriculum. To be authentic, we had to begin from a place where all positions have legitimacy - the point was to focus on how to engage with one another with respect. We had to make sure that all participants understood that we are all created B'tzelem Elohim - in God's image. Even though we can agree that Nazis are bad, there were examples in real life that we avoided in order to not fall into the trap of seeming to take sides. Teachers years from now can look back to the events of this past decade with greater perspective.

As I watch the news and the various political campaigns right now, I think we need to get back to being civil with one another more than ever. When the rabbis of the Talmud considered the question of how God could have allowed the Romans to destroy the Temple in 70 C.E., the only answer that made sense to them was Sinat Chinam - baseless hatred. The Saducees, Pharisees, Zealots, Sicarii and Essenes were splinter groups (some of the splinters were very large) who were often incapable of coming together for the good of the Jewish people. The rabbis said that if they could have figured out a unified position, the Temple would still be standing.

And as President Lincoln said in accepting the nomination of the fledgling Republican party in 1858: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." That was true then when the issue was slavery. It is equally true today when the issues are many and varied.

Friends, teachers, colleagues: I urge you to teach the value of civility. Be like Shammai and greet each person with a smile and teach your learners to do the same. And on behalf of myself and Joel, I invite you to download the free six lesson curriculum on Civil Discourse from the Covenant Foundation site. Each lesson has three versions. One is for middle school, one for high school and one for adults. Feel free to mix and match parts based on your knowledge of those you are teaching.

Help us keep the metaphoric temple - the United States and the Constitution - from being destroyed.

The curriculum is here: https://www.covenantfn.org/news/civilly-speaking-a-curriculum-on-civil-discourse/

What A Long, Strange Trip It Could Be!

You would think that with the pandemic and quarantine I would have posted often. As I look at the past six months or so, I realize two thing about my time. I am not sure if this is universal, or just my mishigas (craziness).

1. I have been busier than ever before. Working with lay leaders and colleagues, we spent an enormous amount of time figuring out what learning should look like at our congregation. We spoke to nearly every family of returning students. Teachers and I spent a great deal of time online together and individually developing skills for both lesson planning and teaching in a digital space as well as figuring out out how to adapt to teaching outdoors with masks and distancing.
   
   
2. At the same time, so many items that had been part of the regular flow have work has been laid aside. I have a lot of folders in the standing rack on my desk that I have not touched in months. I plan on scheduling an hour every few days to triage some of those files. If I am not touching them, I probably don't need them. 

Today is the first Monday after the end of the fall festivals. As I reflect on the Cheshbon hanefesh - the accounting of the soul - that I, like many of you engaged in during the High Holy Days, I gave some thought to this blog.

On the one hand, my most recent post was six months ago. I have treated this blog like those files on my desk. One thought was to say goodbye today.

On the other hand, when I have been more active in this space. I have found the act of writing as well as the occasional conversation it has engendered - on Facebook, via email or even the occasional live or digital face to face - has been valuable to me. And I hope occasionally to someone who has read it.

So I am back. Whether this more of a digital diary for myself or the beginning of conversations with you, whoever you may be, is not up to me. If you are reading this, I hope you will see this as an invitation to engage. In my happiest dreams, I would write regularly and so would you. I am happy to post your thoughts and give full credit. I will also include the occasional article I come across that I think worth sharing and/or reacting to - kind of like when I was curating JeducationWorld.com (of blessed memory). 

The title of this blog comes from a television ad for a video game system from the early 1990's. Welcome to the Next Level in the ad was a play on how when you defeat the obstacles on the screen of a video game, you move to another, harder level. The ad suggested that buying their gaming system was taking you to a higher level of gaming. I adopted the name for this blog because of belief that in Jewish education, we have to do the same thing. We are always working for the win - a successful lesson or experience that engages the learners. And we are always trying to level up. 

Social, emotional and spiritual learning (SESL) were not part of the vocabulary in 1991 (when I began to use the term "Welcome to the Next Level" in my work, but long before I started this blog). And Experiential Learning is light years beyond the informal education or even the confluent education some of us studied with Bill Cutter 29 years ago. And the way learners perceive their world and we perceive them has changed in significant ways, and not just in terms of their digital acuity. Their life both in school and afterward are very different.

The day I stop trying to innovate and learn from my learners is the day I apply to be a Disney cast member so I can operate the roller coaster or log ride. And I want to learn from and with all of you.

I would love it if you were along for the ride.

L'shalom,

Ira

The Socially Distanced Full-Contact Seder ™

Before our children were even conceived (the youngest turns 22 on Sunday) my wife Audrey and I developed what we called the Full-Contact Seder. The idea was to create a Seder that was so engaging that the children we would someday have would be an experience that filled them with wonder. Thanks to being at the seder at Kibbutz Lotan in 1989 - where we saw five little ones mesmerized by the shadow-maggid their parents performed - we were determined. And with the help of family and friends, I believe we succeeded for many years. 

We continue to make our seder with many of those same friends and when COVID-19 decided on a Zoom seder for us, we dusted it off. Here is the introduction of the planning document. I happily share the planning document which are welcome to copy or download. The comments are live on the document, and I invite your thoughts, suggestions and ideas. You can find it at this link:

Socially Distanced Full-Contact Seder ™

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Welcome to the Family Virtual Seder Planning Page!

Also known as the Socially Distanced Full-Contact Seder ™

So it took a few (thousand) years, but we finally have a seder that is fully a product of experiential learning. I was opposed to having an actual plague this year, but you all know how THOSE guys get when they start getting silly.

My understanding of the plan is that we are going to a modified digital version of the Full Contact Seder we did when all of our kids lived at home and were too young to tell us to cut it out.

Below is an outline of the 15 parts of the seder (and some of them are subdivided into more parts). Each has at least one link to a site that will explain what it is about or other relevant information. We agreed that each participating family will take responsibility for at least two of the items. That may include dealing one of them off to a child(ren) or even the one communal grandchild. If you can deal more than one off (keeping at least one for yourselves, of course) awesome! We can skip or just talk about the ones no one took!

The task for each part or sub part is to creatively express, teach or engage us in the meaning of that part of the Seder.

We are using Zoom on a professional account, so the only time limit is the patience of everyone attending (so no filibusters!). You can share your screen with the group, so if you have something prepared on your computer or on another website (e.g. a YouTube Video, Prezy or the like) there is no problem.

As soon as you decide which TWO parts (or sub-parts) you want to own, please put your name on the chart below so we don’t have two families or individuals planning the same part.

I will post prayer sheets, etc. as pdfs for all to download. If you would like to post anything, go ahead or send it to me and I can convert it and post if you prefer.

Ira

Here is the link again.
Socially Distanced Full-Contact Seder ™

It's All About The Journey

This was a D'var Torah I wrote for WATE (the Westchester/Fairfield Association of Temple Edcators - the F is silent) for a meeting this morning.

The view from Mt. Nebo today.

Parshat Chol Hamoed raises some interesting questions for us as educators. The obvious one is the focus on the calendar. We live and die by them it seems. Of course as educators, we are working on Chanukah or even Tu Bishvat (for the Type A personalities, not me) while still in the midst of the Fall festivals. As educators, I think we are sometimes living anachronisms – not outdated, but living out of sync with real time as we work to create programs, lessons and experiences that will be implemented months down the road.

But let’s step beyond the calendar. We have three holidays in the rear view mirror and one to go before the Blessed month of Cheshvan (nutty rabbis of the Talmud called it "bitter" Cheshvan because there were no festivals in it – maybe they didn’t want to have to actually come up with other topics to talk about?) and a full return to our regularly scheduled curriculum.

I was learning over Zoom with Rabbi Mark Borovitz two days ago and he asked me an interesting question—especially with Simchat Torah looming. 

“What happens at the end of the Torah?”

[I paused here and invited my colleagues to suggest answers.]

All of those are there. I had said "Moses dies."

Then he asked: “What happens to the Israelites at the end of the Torah?”

I answered that they are at the foot of Mt. Nebo waiting to enter the land.

Now he was almost yelling: “Why does the Torah leave them there? Why don’t they get to enter the land while still in the Torah?”

Then it hit me. It is not about getting there. It is about the journey. It is about getting through each day, moving closer to the goal. 

Rabbi Borovitz works with addicts at Beit T'shuvah in Los Angeles. Addicts do not talk about being cured or being finished with their recovery. Recovery is something that happens every day for the rest of their lives – if they are successful. It ends when they die or when they return to their addiction. 

They don’t get to the Promised Land. Or if they do, they do not get to lie under their vine and fig tree. Their – and our – struggle continues every day.

The Torah doesn’t end with the death of Moses and the people waiting for the Book of Joshua to begin - as if it was just a book in a series like Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings. The Torah ends by us going back to the beginning and chanting Bereishit: "When God began to create the heavens and the earth."

This is a metaphor made for educators. We get relatively few kudos compared to clergy who are with our members during their happiest and saddest moments. We count our moments of victory over a longer period of time. We don't get or provide a lot of immediate gratification, like people experience with a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, a Wedding or even a funeral. 

WE have to wait half a generation to learn if our learners take up the cause of the Jewish people and raise Jewish children themselves. We keep going back to the beginning, like the weekly Torah reading. 

May we all find joy and radical amazement as we finish and restart the Torah this Sunday night. 

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

---

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.