Parashat Emor - Shlichim and Shabbat

ג שֵׁשֶׁת יָמִים, תֵּעָשֶׂה מְלָאכָה, וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן מִקְרָא-קֹדֶשׁ, כָּל-מְלָאכָה לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ:  שַׁבָּת הִוא לַיהוָה, בְּכֹל מוֹשְׁבֹתֵיכֶם.

ויקרא כ"ג: ג

On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day there shall be a sabbath of complete rest, a sacred occasion.  You shall do no work; it shall be a sabbath of the Lord throughout your settlements.    

Leviticus 23:3

Completely drained from jet lag, I made my way down the stairs from my room to the hotel lobby at Kibbutz Shefaim on Israel's Mediterranean coast. The exhaustion dissipated immediately upon my entry into the reception area as I encountered a mass of hundreds of young, excited, energetic Israelis arriving to start the Jewish Agency for Israel's (JAFI) Summer Shlichim Training Program.  Just beneath the surface of all the anticipation, a nervousness permeated the lobby as participants tried to imagine how this week would feel, what they would leave with, and what challenges would lie ahead.

The summer shlichim training seminar is a five day marathon of lectures, activities, meetings, and dialogues all designed to start making individual Israelis into groups of shlichim, representatives, of the State of Israel.  From lectures on the nature of North American Jewry to positive confrontations with their own Jewish identities, participants are challenged to begin seriously considering who they are as Jews, as Israelis, and as shlichim. What Israel do they want to bring with them to North America and with what Israel do they want North Americans to connect?  As the week progresses, so does the process of strengthening the group. It is amazing to see them come together.

On Friday morning, the directors traveled to Nordia, a small community near Herzliya, named for Max Nordau, an early Zionist leader who was a proponent of "Muscular Judaism," focusing on the physical and corporeal in place of the intellectual and perceived physically weak Jew.  There, we met with several of our North American Staff members in Israel for the year as well as our veteran shlichim.  Together, we discussed the meaning of the year in Israel and its impact on them.  I learned about who felt closer to the land of Israel, the people of Israel, or the State of Israel.  The conversation was fascinating.  The opinions ran the gamut of each position and each staff member was passionate about their position while respecting everyone else's position as well.

The best, and most intense part of the Seminar, however, is Shabbat. Along with the Shabbatot of Hanhala Week, Staff week, and the first and the last Shabbatot of camp, this is one of my favorite Shabbatot of the year.  For six days, I travelled, sat in intense conversations, met individually with new shlichim and veterans, got up very early and went to bed very, very late.  Now, Shabbat was arriving, "a complete rest, a sacred occasion..."

The verse in Leviticus instructs us that we are to do no work on Shabbat, that the day is to be one of complete rest.  Our Sages of Blessed Memory interpreted the prohibition against doing work to be a reference to the 39 forms of labor required in the construction of the Portable Tabernacle and not to all kinds of effort.  As a result, the fact that this was a "working Shabbat" for me was perfectly fine.  No laws of Shabbat were violated in the observance of this working seminar...

The Shabbaton is designed to give Israelis a taste of what Shabbat at camp is all about. For the more religious among the group, Friday night tefillot can be very confusing.  On the one hand, the niggunim (tunes) that we use are very familiar.  The seating, however is not.  For many, this is the first time they will attend a mixed seating service.  There is a disconnect between the familiarity of the tunes and the foreignness of the seating.  This dissonance is only reinforced on Shabbat morning, when women actively participate in tefillot.  

For the more secular among the shlichim, the entire Shabbat experience can be overwhelming.  For many, this is the first time that they are attending Kabbalat Shabbat.  The language is somewhat familiar - it is Hebrew after all, albeit Biblical Hebrew - but everything else is foreign.  If that is not enough, Shabbat can really be viewed as: Pray, eat, meet, sleep.  Wake up, pray, eat, meet.  Then: eat, meet, pray again.  Followed by:  meet, eat, pray yet again and then say havdalah.  Often on Friday night, some shlichim leave tefillot overwhelmed, teary-eyed, wondering whether or not Ramah is the right place for them.  It is at those times that the director gets to be involved in some of the most meaningful conversations of the year.  What does it mean to acknowledge a spiritual side?  How can a rich, textual, powerful inheritance that is, in so many ways, perceived to be off limits to all but the most religious, belong to "secular" Jews as well?  How can a shaliach be a role model for North American campers when this is all so foreign to them? As a director, I cherish these conversations because they can have incredible impact on the person and it is our form of dual shlichut: we give Israelis who feel disenfranchised the opportunity to start taking back their heritage.  And for those who feel that the inheritance IS their own, this is an opportunity for the director to begin opening up the world of different approaches to Judaism.

The last time I attended the Seminar, as the director of Camp Ramah Darom, I heard from my Rosh Mishlachat that one of the shlichot left services crying and that she had lots of concerns about whether or not she should come to camp.  She was reluctant to discuss the subject with me and I waited all of Shabbat for her to approach me.  Finally, after Shabbat, the shlicha came to see me and told me the following:

When she left Kabbalat Shabbat at the mid-point of the service, she went to her room and cried.  She called her father, a very secular Israeli, and explained what had happened, her feeling overwhelmed and frightened, and her sense that this was not the right place for her.  At that point, her father apologized to her!  You might think that he was apologizing for encouraging her to be a shlicha; rather, he was apologizing for his own choices.  He grew up very, very religious and due to a crisis at age 17, he completely cut himself off from being religious.  He apologized to her for "denying her the right to choose!"  He never exposed her to what could be positive in our tradition and he was apologizing.  

The shlicha came to camp and Ramah opened up an entire world of spirituality, depth, and soulful nourishment that had not been part of her life prior to that summer.  Here, in living color, was the power of Ramah impacting emerging adults in Israel just as it does in North America.  While there were no such crisis with the shlichim for Camp Ramah in Wisconsin at this seminar, there were very intense conversations that will continue throughout the summer.  

In our parashah, we are taught that we are to observe Shabbat בְּכֹל מוֹשְׁבֹתֵיכֶם , "in all the places where you dwell."  Our dwelling places, be they in Israel or America, in Columbus or Conover, can and are powerful places for building Shabbat community, for enjoying complete rest, for reconnecting with people and with God.  It is one of the most beautiful gifts bequeathed to us by Our Torah, by God.  And it is one of the most powerful experiences that summers at Ramah can provide to each one of us, both in camp and during the year.  I hope that as we enter this Shabbat, that the depth of conversations and connecting that I experienced at Kibbutz Shefaim, will resonate at all of tables, and at all the places in which we now dwell.

Our new shlichim and our veteran shlichim, as well as all of our North American students in Israel for the year and those who have made Aliyah in recent years, are eagerly anticipating their arrival to camp, to Ramah Shabbatot, and to learning and growing with our campers and staff members.  It was a privilege to be able to spend time with them.  They are a great group and we can look forward to fantastic staff members with intense Israel experiences this summer.  To meet our new shlichim, make sure to check into our blog regularly and watch the introductory videos.  And then come to camp and introduce yourselves by name to those whose names and faces you already know. 

Shabbat Shalom.

Miriam Did Not Have E-Mail: Tazriah-Metzorah

Miriam Did Not Have E-Mail

   ה' הַצִּילָה נַפְשִׁי מִשְּׂפַת-שֶׁקֶר מִלָּשׁוֹן רְמִיָּה.  מַה-יִּתֵּן לְךָ וּמַה-יֹּסִיף לָךְ לָשׁוֹן רְמִיָּה. חִצֵּי גִבּוֹר שְׁנוּנִים    עִם גַּחֲלֵי רְתָמִים 

O Lord, save me from treacherous lips, from deceitful tongue!  What can you profit, what can you gain, O deceitful tongue?  A warrior's sharp arrow, with hot coals of broom-wood.

Psalm 120:2 - 4

Miriam did not have e-mail...or facebook, or twitter, or internet, or a cell phone for that matter.  She had her voice and her judgement and a broad desert to traverse.  She had family and community.  She lived in a world before electronic communication, where information spread by word of mouth, being passed from one person to the next.  It was a slow process but even in the pre-snail mail world, where it took a long time for information to be passed from person to person, it was passed nonetheless. 

Miriam loved her brother and when he was much younger, she helped save him.  But siblings have disagreements and fights.  Feelings are hurt and things are said that will be regretted later.  Miriam is frustrated with her brother, or disappointed, or confused by his choices, and speaks ill of him to Aaron.   And word gets back to God...As a result, Miriam has to spend time outside the camp, outside the community.  This is her consequence.  

As I wrote earlier this year, the Rabbis make a direct connection between the skin disease of Metzorah and being Motzi Shem Ra - speaking ill of another person.  Miriam speaks ill of her brother to another person. She develops this skin disease, this impurity, that requires that she dwell outside the community.  Actions have consequences.  Hurting others has consequences.

. חצי גבור שנונים עם גחלי רתמים כל כלי זיין מכין במקומן וזה מכה מרחוץ

"A warrior's sharp arrows with hot coals of broom-wood..." (Ps. 120:4). Why does the text liken the evil tongue to an arrow rather than to any other weapon? Because all other weapons strike at close quarters, while the arrow strikes from afar. Likewise the evil tongue--something said in Rome can kill in Syria.  

Talmud Yerushalmi Peah 1:1

Imagine, in Miriam's world, how long it must have taken for word to spread, either of what she had said or the resulting Metzorah.  In the ancient world, among so many people spread out in the desert, it must have taken quite a while for her words or their consequences to gain momentum, to pass from wanderer to wanderer, from tent to tent.

We don't have that luxury.  Just as we are taught in the Talmud Yerushalmi about Rome and Syria, today something said in Galena can do damage in Los Angeles in a little over a nanosecond as it is recorded on someone's cell phone and immediately sent via text message to hundreds of people.  Lashon Harah is viral.  Once you type the angry words about another person into your Facebook status and hit "post," there is no taking it back.  If you have 1,000 friends, it appears in their news feed, and then the people they are friends with, but that don't know the subject, see it as well.  It spreads and causes hurt.  

When a ridiculous YouTube video about cats or dogs is viewed by over 25,000,000 people, it means that there is laughter all over the world.  But when one child posts a video that embarrasses a peer on YouTube and it spreads all over the world, then hurt comes to the subject from anonymous people from the four corners of the world for "the evil tongue is likened to an arrow...Because all other weapons strike at close quarters, while the arrow strikes from afar.

Camp is around the corner.  A summer of fun, friends, meaning, and learning is almost here.  As we get closer, children post their excitement about camp.  They count down the days.  And then bunk assignments will arrive and then word about who has which counselor will follow. Now is a good time to remind our campers that facebook, e-mail, etc can be a great way to express their anticipation of the summer.  And it can be a weapon, a long distance tool for bullying, if someone they don't like is in the cabin or if they heard some rumor about a person. 

When I was a camper, you took pictures in the summer and after camp, you had the film developed and you got 3 x 5 prints.  And if you were lucky, you got duplicate copies of each picture and could share one with a friend.  It took time and patience, and your parents usually had to pick them up for you so they would see the pictures.  Today - their is no waiting.  Take a picture on your cell phone or your digital camera, upload it, and broadcast it to your friends, and then they make comments.  The absence of cell coverage does delay the sending of digital pictures until after the summer but it does not limit the distance to which embarrassment can be spread.  Now is a great time to remind our children about the power of images (For a powerful and difficult TED talk about images, watch Jonathan Klein at http://www.ted.com/talks/jonathan_klein_photos_that_changed_the_world.html), and the judgement required in posting images to social networking sites after the summer.

In a world of anonymous blogging, vicious facebook posts, and nasty tweets, our campers and children need us more than ever to teach them the power of words, of images, of posting, and of commenting. Now, more than ever, our children and campers need us to teach them about both the Miriam who dances with her timbrels at The Sea, leading positively and joyously AND the Miram who speaks ill of her brother, who uses the evil tongue, and has to spend time outside the community, outside the camp,  as a result of her lapse in judgement.  Now is the time for all of us to introduce our children to the principle of our Sages, "Life and Death rest in the hand of the Tongue..."  Thank you in advance for partnering with us in making sure that social networking and electronic communication are not sources of pain, bullying and tormenting but are sources of anticipation and excitement.

Shabbat Shalom.

Ki Tissah - Shabbat Parah - Finding God's Presence

לְךָ, אָמַר לִבִּי--בַּקְּשׁוּ פָנָי;    אֶת-פָּנֶיךָ יְהוָה אֲבַקֵּשׁ.

אַל-תַּסְתֵּר פָּנֶיךָ, מִמֶּנִּי

In Your behalf, my heart says, "Seek My face!"  O Lord, I seek Your face.  Do not hide Your face from me...

                                                                                    Psalm 27:8-9

This morning, as I was passing the Seventeenth Church of Christ, Scientist, which stands at the corner of Wabash, Wacker, and East Wacker Place right across from our office, I looked up and saw a man wearing a large, black velvet kippah.  He was gazing down Wabash looking to see when the light would change, unaware that there was another fellow Jew on the opposite side of the street.  We passed each other and I said, "Shabbat Shalom!"  The man looked up, bewildered, and responded in kind.  I am sure he was surprised as this is not the intersection one would expect such a greeting. After all, this was not Jerusalem or Modiin but Chicago, across the street from the Seventeenth Church of Christ, Scientist!  But in that moment, I saw Shabbat arriving and I felt a sense of kedushah - of holiness.  And I perceived something else: God's Glory. 

I often write about random encounters with people and the deeper meanings that emerge from those moments: the man who speaks no English and little Hebrew that I bump into in Jerusalem who asks me for directions and the sense of Jewish Peoplehood that emerges from that brief conversation; seeing a cat standing still when the siren is sounded at the beginning of Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day in Israel) and feeling the true power of memory; and the unexpected discovery of great hachnassat orchim (welcoming of guests) that leads to conversation, friendship, and joint programming to name just a few.  Being attentive to the deeper meaning of what appear to be random encounters is important because in them lies the potential to see God's glory.

The Torah tells us that Moses is blessed with a unique relationship with God, one that he alone has.  God and Moses speak 

פָּנִים אֶל-פָּנִים, כַּאֲשֶׁר יְדַבֵּר אִישׁ אֶל-רֵעֵהוּ

face to face as one friend speaks to another (Ki Tissa, Exodus 33). 

In our parashah, we are told that not only does Moses talk with God in person but that the nature of the relationship is warm and intimate, that of the closest of friends.  The uniqueness of the God-Moses relationship, its face-to-face nature, is reinforced at the end of the Torah in the last chapter of Sefer Dvarim.  

If the face-to-face relationship between God and Moses is singular, unique, where and how do we perceive God's Presence in this world?  And if we cannot see God's face, can we perceive God's Glory or כבוד?  Leaving aside what appears to be a contradiction about Moses ability to see God's face in our parashah, the Torah differentiates between God's Face, God's Glory, and God's Goodness.  Rather than seeing God's Face, God passes Goodness and Glory before Moses' face.  And while in this passage, Moses cannot see God's Face, God's Present, he is permitted to see God's Back, the results of the Divine Presence, as Aviva Zornberg notes, "What he sees is the aftermath of God's presence, its effects, what it sees in its wake."

Despite being taught here that humans cannot see the Divine Face for “if a person sees it he cannot live,” the author of Psalm 27 (noted above) is not deterred, expressing the eternal human pursuit of the same level of relationship with God that Moses had: friend and confidant, direct and not transcendent, personal and loved.  We want to see God’s Face, to know in the most unquestionable way of God’s love for us, to feel God standing next to us in moments of happiness and sadness.

But it seems that just as there were times when Moses was not permitted to see God’s Face but rather God’s Back, the result of God’s Presence, the knot of the tefillin and not the box itself (as we are taught in the Talmud, Berakhot), we too can find and feel the results of God’s passing before our covered faces in this world.  Despite all of the noise that prevents us from focusing - the traffic, the buzz of the Blackberry, the ding of the inbox when yet another e-mail arrives - we can discover, if we look hard enough, God’s Glory and Goodness in this world.  From the mundane to the profound, from the person who waits an extra second to hold the door open for us to the acquaintance we bump into after many years who takes time to say hello instead of just running off, we can experience the “tefillin knot,” the aftermath of God in this world.

Standing next to a door covered with an array of different colored moths, a person once said to me, “Do you know how I know that God exists? I know because these moths - some pink and yellow, some brown and camouflaged, some small, others enormous - exist...”  A random collection of flying insects brought this person to recognize God’s Glory in this world.  The random observation led to a longer conversation and a lifelong friendship, limited by distance and time, but constantly connecting to God’s Presence in this world.

If we are constantly seeking God’s face, where are we finding it?  Where are you finding it?  In the week to come, look for it in the seemingly random human interactions of the week.  I am sure you will find it.

Shabbat Shalom.

A Fictional Rabbi Sykes

It was brought to my attention that a short story published in Moment Magazine as the third place entry in their Jewish short fiction contest mentions a Rabbi Sykes and takes place at a fictional Jewish camp in Northern Wisconsin named Camp Shalom.  Thanks to those who brought it to my attention.  You can read the short story at the following link.

Kippot and Culture

The following video was sent to me by my Ariella Moss, assistant director of Camp Ramah in Canada.  It is a very funny animated short using kippot as a way to tell the viewer about Israel.  Enjoy!

Parashat Terumah - Sacred Space

Our Torah places tremendous emphasis on the importance of Sacred Time. In parashah after parashah, we learn about the rhythms of the Jewish calendar, the Jewish day, and the Jewish lifecycle; of the rewards for fulfilling mitzvot at their appropriate times and the consequences of neglecting those same mitzvot; durations are set for the amount of time a person must spend outside the camp for having a status of impurity; and the number of days are fixed for the length of Divine celebrations. This emphasis on Sacred Time, on z’man, can result in a perception that Judaism cares about time but not Sacred Space. The second half of Exodus, however, with its focus on the nearly infinite details of the design and construction of the portable Tabernacle - the Mishkan - serves as the counterpoint to the focus on Sacred Time as it is all about the creation of Sacred Space.

As I think back to my years in rabbinical school, I clearly remember the stress placed on Sacred Time. From how to conduct a daily service to classes on Heschel’s classic, The Sabbath, to how to the use the luach bet haknesset - the synagogue ritual calendar that tells you what to do on each day of the Jewish year - the emphasis was all about time and community. Yet in all my years of education at JTS, there was not a single class about designing a synagogue building, no course on the details of the construction of the Bet HaMikdash - The Temple in Jerusalem - and students who were assigned the parshiot of Terumah, Tetzaveh, Ki Tissa, VaYakhel or Pikudei for their senior sermons all bemoaned their misfortune, with parashat Terumah famously referred to as parashat Trauma for the lack of interesting narrative or relevant holiday information.

As a People in exile, the emphasis on Sacred Time helped form Sacred Community that was not at all dependent on a physical Spiritual Center. The Sages who preserved Judaism after the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem did so by focusing on the Mikdash Me’at - the small sanctuary - namely, our soul. This Divine residence could travel with us wherever we found ourselves as individuals and as a community until the day when the Temple would be rebuilt in Jerusalem and all of the exiles would be re-gathered there. The focus on physical space and its sacred nature was placed entirely on a longing for returning to the Land of Israel with great emphasis on the reconstruction of a central Holy Place without spending much time on the physical details of that new place. Judaism as a religion and Jews as a People could therefore survive the exile and move nimbly from one place to the next without having to abandon the singular Divine Home, for each member of the community carried it within their own hearts and souls.

I had the good fortune of spending the past few weeks living according to Jewish time in The Place, one that gushes with sacred people, time, and places: The State of Israel. For most of those two weeks, I sat in the lobby of the Dan Panorama Jerusalem meeting with North Americans in Israel for the year, new candidates to serve as shlichim, members of our Israeli delegation, veteran shlichim who want to return to camp, and key members of our staff who live in Israel, either as native Israelis or Olim from North America. On some level, the lobby of the hotel was the antithesis of Sacred Space. It was undergoing renovations and there was the constant noise of construction: saws cutting stone for the floors and walls, hammers, vacuums, etc. Along with the noise came the putrid odor of burnt rubber when tubes were being cut and marble dust from the slicing of floor tiles. The lobby was darker and narrower than usual as the windows and large parts of the lobby were sealed off with drywall as the renovations took place. And let’s face it, hotel lobbies are generally not sacred spaces. At the same time, the lobby was imbued with the sacredness that is the person who comes to express a desire to bring a love of Israel to North Americans. At times, there were twenty or thirty people just waiting to meet with members of the Ramah directorate to share their special gifts and express their desire to be the link between our children and Israel. When all of these souls joined together in one room, they instilled it with kedushat hanefesh, the sanctity of souls.

Every once in a while during my trip, however, I would have to escape the hotel lobby, to breathe fresh air and remember that I was in Eretz Kadshenu - Our Holy Land. During those breaks, I was reminded of the importance of Sacred Space on at least five different occasions:

Prior to a business meeting at the Israel Museum, Sima Sayag, a shlicha and former rosh amanut (art director) who does special projects at camp, gave me a tour of the two exhibits that are currently open as the museum completes renovations: The model of Jerusalem during the period of the Second Temple and the Shrine of the Book, home to The Dead Sea Scrolls. Outside, in Jerusalem, I saw a model that I had not seen since Ramah Israel Seminar in 1983 when it sat on a hillside at the HolyLand Hotel. At its center lies a model of The Temple, The Sacred Space, the Permanent Divine Home, that replaced the portable Tabernacle when Jerusalem was established as the Capital of the Jewish People. It was glorious to see this model at the start of the week when we read our parashah, Terumah. The presence of the Shrine of the Book served as a perfect counterpoint to physical space as the Essenes placed great emphasis on sacred purity which, by extension, focuses on Holy Time, not to mention the thrill that comes with seeing pieces of our history that are thousands of years old.

Two former shilichot provided me with exposure to other Sacred Spaces in Jerusalem. One former shlicha gave me a tour of current archaeological digs taking place just outside the walls of the Old City in a place known as “Ir David” or “The City of David,” where she organizes events. Leaving aside the political implications of the dig and the way that archaeology is used to prove or disprove political issues, the ancient site is impressive and exudes holiness, place, and history. Here, one can stand at a place where Solomon may have been crowned king and where royal signets bearing the names of key characters in the books of Samuel and Kings were discovered.

Another former shlicha gives tours of Mt. Herzl, the Knesset, and the Supreme Court Building to high school students learning about democracy and Israel’s democratic institutions. I had only seen the Supreme Court from the outside and Ofir offered to give me a tour which I gladly accepted. It was great to be outside the hotel lobby for a bit.  The Supreme Court, representative of the centrality of the rule of law and its equal application to citizens, was both a meaningful and timely site to see. If you have not been inside the building on a previous visit to Israel, you should make sure to get there on your next visit. Every part of the building is artistic and intentional. The architects thought about everything from a perspective of meaning, imbuing the halls, the courtrooms and every inch of the building with some greater purpose than just looking nice. From the grand windows that look out at the city, designed to represent the need for a transparent court, to mirrors at the base of the entry wall representing the eternity of law, from the straight lines cut into the marble floors indicating the need for the law to be clear and straight to the curves in the ceiling designed to serve as the counterpoint to rigidness, namely the need for judicial discretion, the building is an inspiring reminder that Israel is a democracy where any citizen or resident can make a case in public, without fear and with the expectation of a fair hearing.

Even restaurants in Israel can be the venue for a Divine Encounter. On my last night in Jerusalem, I had the incredible experience of dining at Eucalyptus. Sitting just outside the walls of the Old City in the Artist's Walk, also known as Hutzot HaYotzer, Moshe Basson, the chef-owner, provides guests with a singular, historical dining experience. Each course of the chef’s tasting menu is accompanied by explanations of the ingredients, all of which - except for the tamarind - are chosen precisely because they are somehow connected to Torah, Tanakh and to the Land of Israel. Moreover, his explanations are flowing with citations of verses from Tanakh along with fascinating divre Torah. I have truly never had a more interesting or delicious culinary experience in any restaurant, ever, and Moshe makes it more than just interesting. He makes it Sacred - eating truly as though one is eating at the Altar, sitting just outside the home of the Temple Mount.

Finally, prior to leaving Israel this week, I spent my last few hours in the Tayyelet, the Haas Promenade, that overlooks Jerusalem from the Talpiyot neighborhood. I sat and watched as the sun slowly descended, creating burning reds, pinks and oranges against the darkening backdrop of blue. I pondered the contrast of new Jerusalem and old, of modern and ancient, of peace and strife. The setting of the sun reminded me of the tension between time and place. For now, Jerusalem and sacred place will have to continue to be a mishkan me’at - a small portable tabernacle - in my soul.

Returning to the U.S., I am thinking about the task that stands before us as the summer approaches: creating sacred space, temporary in many ways, permanent in others. On so many levels, that is what camp is about: creating a holy place where campers and staff members, North Americans and Israelis, can encounter holy time, holy place, holiness of the soul and The Holy One. What are the ingredients of our sacred place? What are the core values of our summer sacred place? What are the essential questions and enduring understandings we hope people will explore and discover in our place? And how will we emerge transformed personally and professionally, socially and soulfully, intellectually and spiritually, behaviorally and thoughtfully from this place this summer?

Sitting through the details of parashat Terumah this Shabbat, I encourage all of us to listen to the blueprints of The Tabernacle and consider the essential ingredients of our sacred places and how we go about constructing those places, the spaces where we encounter ourselves and God and where we think about and live Sacred and mundane time. I look forward to your sharing your thoughts with me after Shabbat as I will share them with you in the weeks to come.

Shabbat Shalom.

Unexpected Gifts of Healing - Traveling to Israel

I am always amazed when I have moving travel encounters.  So often, in the sea of humanity that is the airport, I never actually talk to another person except to say "Excuse me" when I bump into them making my way down the aisle to my seat.  This time, however, I had two fascinating interactions with people.  They were very different yet so very much the same.  Both involved healing, Divinity, and humanity.

The phone rang while we were driving to O'Hare International Airport.  The digitized voice calling from computer somewhere wanted me to know that my 3:40 PM flight to Atlanta would now depart at 4:40.  This would get me into Atlanta at about 8 pm which made me nervous about making a boarding time of 9:30 for my flight to Tel Aviv.  I got to the airport at 1:20 and miraculously, with the help of a great agent, made the 2:05 pm with ten minutes to spare.  Thus, I arrived in Atlanta with lots of time on my hands. 

After wandering around the airport for a little while and answering some e-mail - which I see to be doing on a perpetual basis - I found an XpressSpa (Terminal C across from Gate C37).  My shoulder and neck have been in increasing amounts of pain for the past three months and I decided that the 10 1/2 hour flight to Tel Aviv would be much more pleasant if I could get a good shoulder - neck massage.  Tiffany, a young African-American woman, truly had healing hands.  In talking about her work, she used language that sounded remarkably Divine - that she was moved to help people and to try to heal their pain.  This was not just a job but something approaching a calling.  I have to think that if Tiffany were just doing this as a job, I would not have felt nearly as healed as I did.  I will still have to do physical therapy when I return but the relief was notable.  It was as if I was given a gift.

After some sitting in the massage chair for a while, I headed to the International Concourse and the Delta Sky Club.  As I got to the door, a little girl, perhaps five years old, was holding the door open and yelling to her mother with the sweetest Israeli accent to come quickly.  She held the door open for me and as I passed through, I said, "Todah Rabbah."  She and her mother and father smiled.  The agent behind the counter at the entry to the club smiled and asked me what I said to her.  I repeated the phrase and explained that it was Hebrew.  At that point, the agent, Bernadette, asked me where I was going.  In response, she told me about her three day trip to Israel with a famous faith healer.  She started witnessing in a way that I had seen  when going to homecoming in Persimmon Valley near Camp Ramah Darom.  She was sharing her faith not to convert me but to let me know of her love of the Jewish people and her love of God.  Her eyes teared up as she told me about her journey, how she was going down the wrong path, how God saved her, and how she wanted to spend a month in Israel as soon as she could. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she asked me to pray for her and her family, as she wished me a safe trip, and as she let me go so that I could call family members before departing the country.

It could have been easy to simply sit through the massage, to not talk or respond to Tiffany as she asked questions of faith or to not have looked into the eye of the Sky Club agent to avoid conversation.  I could have slept.  I could have had more time to call.  But I got some healing and, in some way that I don't understand beyond the fact that I was willing to listen, gave some healing.  So thank you Tiffany for the healing gift you have been given and that you give and thank you to Bridgette for the opportunity to offer healing and thanks to the little Israeli girl who held the door.

My flight was uneventful.  I watched Inglorious Basterds - still trying to figure out how I feel about it - slept through most of another movie, and awoke just in time to see the lights of Tel Aviv.  I made it though passport control faster than ever as there was no line at all, got shekalim, got my bags and was out to my friends, Ronnie and Minda Garr who so kindly picked me up.  Dropped everything off at the hotel - was greeted like a long lost friend by Shuki the taxi driver and Isam the desk agent, headed off to a working dinner and then visited my friend Tova. As I walked back to the Dan Panorama from Emek Refaim, breathing in the cool Jerusalem night, seeing the walls of the Old City, I thought of the gifts I received and gave and then felt my soul quiet.

More reports from Israel to follow

Layla Tov.