In so many ways, this was a celebration like any other synagogue celebration. There was the passing of the Torah, aliyot, blessings, the presenting of certificates and gift prayer books. Parents and friends smiled as they watched their children take the Torah and make it their own. There were “Mazal Tovs” and “Yasher Koah’s” and abundant joy. And yet, nothing could be less ordinary or more special than this group of bar and bat mitzvah boys and girls and their families. This is Thursday morning at Camp Yofi: Family Camp for Jewish Families with Children with Autism and for many of these families, this ceremony marks something that some thought was impossible: public celebration of the life of a child with autism in the Jewish community.
Several years ago, at the first Camp Yofi, one family told us about being asked by their rabbi not to return to the synagogue anymore. Why? Their child liked to be too close to the Torah! Can you imagine that?! Isn’t it the dream of every Jewish educator and leader that a child will want to be close to the Torah, physically and spiritually? And yet, this child’s desire was too much for the rabbi. The family left the synagogue. I don’t know if they ever found another regular shul but for at least that one summer, they had Camp Yofi, where their child could be close to the Torah and nobody would push him away. All that they congregants would do was was smile and cry.
On Thursday, multiple b’nai mitzvah were celebrated and each child took the Torah, held it for a minute and then passed it onto the next child. They didn’t hold a stuffed Torah or a toy Torah and nobody gasped at the idea that a child with a special need would be given a Torah. Some of the children not only held the Torah...they hugged the Torah – tight, loving, protective hugs – and they knew what they were doing and they cared. Two of the Yofi camper’s had the most incredible smiles on their faces – angelic – as though God’s Divine Presence was hugging and loving them back.
As it was Rosh Chodesh, the celebration of the new month of Elul, there were four aliyot for the Torah reading. Four Yofi campers had aliyot. They held the tzitzit, they held the atzei Hayyim, they said the berachot and they listened intently while one of the parents read the Torah. One of the campers led the first two lines of Shma in Hebrew and another campers sang the translation of Shma in English with the traditional melody. Finally, one camper came up to the front, standing tall, and opened the ark to reveal Torah to the community. At the end of the service, one of the Yofi campers with the biggest smiles holding the Torah came up as the ark was closing and asked if he could kiss the Torah one last time! As he leaned into the ark to adorn our Torah with love, tears welled up again in the eyes of everyone.
Over the years, numerous Camp Yofi families have told stories of congregational meetings where they were told that if their child with autism could not do everything that a typical child could do, if they could not “perform” at that level, then they could not have a bar or bat mitzvah at that synagogue. The typical explanation given was that if an exception was made for this child, then families whose children had soccer practice and ballet practice and “God-only-knows-what-else practice” which made it impossible for them to devote the time necessary to learning about their heritage would request a special exception citing the child with autism as the basis for their request. It seems to me that if a family ever did make such a comparison and request, the problem facing the rabbi and the congregation was not about the exception but was about the soccer family or something far deeper. Either way, citing someone else’s soccer practice as a reason to deny a child with autism the opportunity to have a modified ceremony, as though the two are in any way equal, is as abhorrent as it is absurd.
When families with children with autism are denied the opportunity to have a bar or bat mitzvah modified to meet the needs and abilities of that child, when they are given an all or nothing option that is not realistic for a ceremony that marks a halakhic transition that happens whether or not there is a ceremony, sends a clear message – whether or not that message is intended and explicit or completely unintended: Your child’s life is some how less valuable than the lives of other children in the community. Moreover, your family does not deserve to publicly celebrate or be recognized by the congregational community because your child is of lesser ability and lesser value. When we are commanded to imitate God, is this what God meant? Clearly not and yet this message is sent over and over again to Jewish families with children with autism.
Children are being born onto the autism spectrum faster than ever and in higher percentages than any other disorder or disease. The number of Jewish children with autism will only grow, and rapidly, in the years to come. If we, the Jewish community, cannot figure out how to make a place for these incredible, angelic, Divine souls in our classrooms – religious school and day school, in our youth groups, in our camps, and in our synagogues, we will not only exclude the child but we will lose the entire family as part of the Jewish people. At a time when we all fret about the dropping Jewish numbers, when organizations and philanthropists alike are casting about trying to figure out how to interest those who are completely uninterested in Jewish involvement and investing millions of dollars in the effort, we are also actively causing the departure of families who are desperate for community and would give fare more than they would receive if we would just open the doors and modify our own expectations of children instead of slamming the doors in their faces.
At the close of our Camp Yofi Bnai Mitzvah celebration, all of the bnai mitzvah stood under a hastily made huppah. Protected by the Shekhina, we sang together a song by Josh Nelson, “ L’Dor Va’Dor.
We are gifts and we are blessings
We are history in songs
We are hope and we are healing
We are learning to be strong
We are words we are stories we are pictures of the past
We are carriers of wisdom, not the first and not the last
L’Dor vador Nagid Gadlecha,
L’Dor vador we protect this chain
From generation to generation
L’Dor vador
These lips will praise Your name
Looking back on the journey that we carry in our heart
From the shadow of the mountain to the waters that would part
We are blessed we are holy, we are children of Your way
And the words that bring us meaning we will have the strength to say
L’Dor vador Nagid Gadlecha,
L’Dor vador we protect this chain
From generation to generation
L’Dor vador
These lips will praise Your name
All of our children are gifts and blessings. They all deserve and need to be included in and by the Jewish community. This month of Elul is the time for us to wake up and to take a communal reckoning of what kind of People and community that we want to be:
Will we choose to recognize the blessings that each of our children, typical and with autism or other special needs, are in our lives and in the lives of our People?
Will we choose to open our doors and our hearts to these incredible families, to welcome their wisdom and to provide the support they deserve and they need?
Will we recognize that one size does not fit all or will we insist on some level of “performance” standard that excludes children with incredible but different gifts?
Will the Houses that we build in God’s name truly be for the entire Jewish People or will they be only for those who meet our definition of typical?
If the answer to the above questions is no, God Help us.
And if the answer is yes, then let this year be one where we reach out to Jewish families with children with autism, welcome them, and include them, moving us all one step closer to the onset of the Messianic Era!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Shabbat Hazon 2009
Before I could appreciate the back porch of the library at Ramah in Wisconsin, I had to spend time on another mirpeset – another porch. In the middle of the busiest area of camp, the triangle formed by the Chadar Ochel, the Mercaz or programming center, and the Bet Am, sat an old house with a porch that faced the bet am. I don’t know if the house was part of the fishing village and “resort” that predated the camp, but that is what we were told and it certainly looked old enough to have been from the early 1920’s. Before the house was moved to make room for the Amanut – the arts & crafts building to the staff housing area, before it became known as Bet Garr, where my teachers, mentors and friends, Ronnie and Minda, Yossi, Tova, Michal and Yaela Garr lived, the house was known as Bet Porten. It was the summer home of Dr. and Rabbi Bezalel “Buzzy,” his wife Debby, and their children: Shuey, Avi, Gabi and Nomi.
I was constantly homesick my first summer at Ramah in 1977. My first madrich, Scott Miller and my Rosh Aidah, Cheryl Magen helped me make it through that first summer in more ways than I could list here. So did Hazzan Leon Lissek (I was the kid who took Nusach as a chug) and Miriam Alon who ran the beit tefirah, the sewing room, where I made my first tallit. And then there was the Porten family. More specifically, Debby, who was the senior, and I think only yoetzet (advisor) at the time, would sit with me on her mirpeset and while I cried, a lot those first three weeks. I got to know her son, Gabi, and daughter, Nomi, who were still too young to be campers. Debby often reminded me of how we would sit and play shesh besh (backgammon) on that porch with the kids for hours. From that summer forward, until the mid-1980’s, Debby played a formative role in my life. She helped me get through that summer and many other challenges that I faced as a camper. And she always did it with a smile and an invitation to the mirpeset for another game of shesh besh.
Like many people that play a major role in our lives, time and distance diminish the frequency of contact but not the impact. So much of how I worked as a madrich I learned from Debby when I was a camper. In later years, I would have the opportunity to study a little Talmud with Gabi, to work with him, and to be a madrich in Nomi’s aidah for two summers. In one of my last visits with Debby in Israel, Debby was giving advice to a mutual friend that was prescient for me. She told our friend, who was contemplating leaving a position that every time in her own life that she left one job another exciting opportunity came along. I wish that I would have touched base more frequently with Debby. I heard about how she was doing through the Kolodner Klein family and through the Garr family. The last time I saw Debby, she was coming to see The Man of LaMancha in Jerusalem, where Becca had a starring role.
Debby Porten died this week after a serious battle with cancer. Ramah alumni shared stories of the impact that Debby had on them as campers or staff members. It was incredible to read some of the reactions that people had. So many people learned how to be Mentsches because of Debby, or learned what Jewish family life could be like just by hanging out and playing backgammon on the mirpeset. Debby’s legacy is in her own incredible children and in the staff members, the campers, and all of their children.
This week, we will commemorate the Fast of Tisha B’A, the Ninth Day of Av, which calls us to mourn the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. For twenty-five hours, we refrain from eating, drinking, wearing leather-soled shoes, anointing (wearing makeup or perfume), and sexual relations. While many explanations are given for the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple, the most famous is that the Temple was destroyed as a result of sinat hinam – baseless hatred (see Talmud Bavli Gittin 55-56 for the complete story). Much time will be spent in programs in Jewish summer camps and in shuls talking about how we can treat the Other in a kinder way, how we can avoid the kind of baseless hatred that brought down the Holy of Holies.
On Tisha b’Av this year, however, I will spend a lot of time thinking about a woman who taught me how to make it through a summer, how to depersonalize things, what hachnassat orchim was about, and how to play shesh besh with her kids on the mirpeset. I will think of all the Porten children, now adults with many children of their own. I will think of Buzzy, my first recollection of him being his wailing voice crying out the Kinah (mournful prayer) “_ Oy me’Haya Lanu” at the end of the reading of Lamentations. We mourn on Tisha B’Av, and I will mourn too. But I will also remember an incredible teacher and person who helped me through the early days of my thirty-plus year relationship with Ramah. Who will you be thinking of? To whom do you owe an apology for hateful behavior or the speaking of lashon harah? And what teacher might you want to call, someone who really touched your life in profound ways, that you have not spoken with in far too long?
Free advice (it is worth exactly what you pay for it): Make the call this week for you never know when the opportunity might be lost.
May the Memory of Debby Porten be for a Blessing.
Shabbat Shalom and a Meaningful Tisha B’Av Observance to all.
I was constantly homesick my first summer at Ramah in 1977. My first madrich, Scott Miller and my Rosh Aidah, Cheryl Magen helped me make it through that first summer in more ways than I could list here. So did Hazzan Leon Lissek (I was the kid who took Nusach as a chug) and Miriam Alon who ran the beit tefirah, the sewing room, where I made my first tallit. And then there was the Porten family. More specifically, Debby, who was the senior, and I think only yoetzet (advisor) at the time, would sit with me on her mirpeset and while I cried, a lot those first three weeks. I got to know her son, Gabi, and daughter, Nomi, who were still too young to be campers. Debby often reminded me of how we would sit and play shesh besh (backgammon) on that porch with the kids for hours. From that summer forward, until the mid-1980’s, Debby played a formative role in my life. She helped me get through that summer and many other challenges that I faced as a camper. And she always did it with a smile and an invitation to the mirpeset for another game of shesh besh.
Like many people that play a major role in our lives, time and distance diminish the frequency of contact but not the impact. So much of how I worked as a madrich I learned from Debby when I was a camper. In later years, I would have the opportunity to study a little Talmud with Gabi, to work with him, and to be a madrich in Nomi’s aidah for two summers. In one of my last visits with Debby in Israel, Debby was giving advice to a mutual friend that was prescient for me. She told our friend, who was contemplating leaving a position that every time in her own life that she left one job another exciting opportunity came along. I wish that I would have touched base more frequently with Debby. I heard about how she was doing through the Kolodner Klein family and through the Garr family. The last time I saw Debby, she was coming to see The Man of LaMancha in Jerusalem, where Becca had a starring role.
Debby Porten died this week after a serious battle with cancer. Ramah alumni shared stories of the impact that Debby had on them as campers or staff members. It was incredible to read some of the reactions that people had. So many people learned how to be Mentsches because of Debby, or learned what Jewish family life could be like just by hanging out and playing backgammon on the mirpeset. Debby’s legacy is in her own incredible children and in the staff members, the campers, and all of their children.
This week, we will commemorate the Fast of Tisha B’A, the Ninth Day of Av, which calls us to mourn the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. For twenty-five hours, we refrain from eating, drinking, wearing leather-soled shoes, anointing (wearing makeup or perfume), and sexual relations. While many explanations are given for the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple, the most famous is that the Temple was destroyed as a result of sinat hinam – baseless hatred (see Talmud Bavli Gittin 55-56 for the complete story). Much time will be spent in programs in Jewish summer camps and in shuls talking about how we can treat the Other in a kinder way, how we can avoid the kind of baseless hatred that brought down the Holy of Holies.
On Tisha b’Av this year, however, I will spend a lot of time thinking about a woman who taught me how to make it through a summer, how to depersonalize things, what hachnassat orchim was about, and how to play shesh besh with her kids on the mirpeset. I will think of all the Porten children, now adults with many children of their own. I will think of Buzzy, my first recollection of him being his wailing voice crying out the Kinah (mournful prayer) “_ Oy me’Haya Lanu” at the end of the reading of Lamentations. We mourn on Tisha B’Av, and I will mourn too. But I will also remember an incredible teacher and person who helped me through the early days of my thirty-plus year relationship with Ramah. Who will you be thinking of? To whom do you owe an apology for hateful behavior or the speaking of lashon harah? And what teacher might you want to call, someone who really touched your life in profound ways, that you have not spoken with in far too long?
Free advice (it is worth exactly what you pay for it): Make the call this week for you never know when the opportunity might be lost.
May the Memory of Debby Porten be for a Blessing.
Shabbat Shalom and a Meaningful Tisha B’Av Observance to all.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic interviews Ambassador Michael Oren
The following short video of Jeffrey Goldberg interviewing Israel's Ambassador to the US, Michael Oren, is absolutely incredible. Goldberg asks excellent, deep and challenging questions and Ambassador Oren does not shy away from giving answers of equal, if not greater depth. This is a six minutes well spent for anyone who loves Israel and considers themselves a Zionist, however they define the term.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Matot – Ma’sei 2009 - Travels
I was on the road so much the past few weeks that I even found myself enjoying the hour long NPR documentary about Willie Nelson, he of “On The Road Again” fame (despite my personal and intense dislike of both kinds of music – Country and Western). I could list my journey like a trip-tik from AAA:
And then I went from Indian Ridge, Marietta to Grovehurst, Marietta;
And from Marietta to Chattanooga; and I rested in Chattanooga for one hour;
And from Chattanooga to Nashville;
And from Nashville I travelled to Louisville, and it rained strongly;
And from Louisville to Indianapolis;
And from Indianapolis to the Skyway, which was slow;
And from the Skyway I traveled to Highland Park, where I rested one night;
And from Highland Park I traveled to Lakeview, Chicago and purchased a home there;
And from Lakeview I traveled to Conover, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, and I was in Conover for six days; and on the day after the Sabbath…
I returned to Lakeview and met Rebecca and Amalya, and we met the movers and unpacked;
And then it was Shabbat and we rested…
If the above sounds both familiar and a bit thin on details, it is because it is very similar to the opening verses of the second of our two parshiot this week: Matot and Ma’sei, which are also long on place names and short on details as to what occurred in those places. The details are so limited that when mentioning the Sinai Desert, there is not even a mention of Mt. Sinai let alone the retelling or even noting of God’s revelation to B’nai Yisrael at Mt. Sinai. The filling in of the details is often left to the midrash.
If I stopped at the list I made above, you might have thought that nothing of interest happened on my drive. You would not have known that it rained for three solid hours between Nashville and Louisville so hard that you could not see more than ten feet in front of you; or that I stopped in Chattanooga to see my sister, Vicki, my brother-in-law, Jason, or my very cute nephew, Jordan; nor would you have known that it took me 17 hours to get from Marietta to Highland Park, Il instead of the 11 hours Mapquest told me it would take.
Often, I find that it is that which appears to be most mundane along these trips that turns out to be the most powerful and the most moving. It can be a sunset over the highway, or heron gliding past your car to land on a roadside lake. Or it can be a chance encounter with a person. I had many such encounters during the past month but want to share only one with you this Shabbat.
I went to the Amanut Building – the Arts Building – at Ramah in Wisconsin to see what was going on there. It was a beautiful day and from the porch that connects the art building to the woodshop, you could see the gorgeous lake, the island seemingly a finger’s length away. A young woman was teaching campers how to make their own tote bags, to personalize them, and to use them to tell a story. I was intrigued. After the activity ended, I asked Yali about her project. She showed me her portfolio and there was a photo of a Kate Spade Bag, black with embossed paisleys and other shapes. I asked Yali about the bag. What followed was far beyond my imagination.
Yali is young, energetic, vibrant, and so happy. Her smile is infectious and people tell me that you will never see Yali look any differently. The art staff and the aidah staff cherish her equally. The campers who work with Yali clearly love her. She is, I am told, a person with an exceptional work ethic and an incredible heart. And you would never know it but Yali is also a cancer survivor. She is 18 now and about to start college, an achievement that many take for granted, but my guess is that Yali never doubted that she would reach.
While Yali was fighting her battle with cancer, she had the opportunity to have a wish fulfilled through the Make-a-Wish Foundation. She wanted to design a bag with Kate Spade, and she did it! She wanted 50% of the purchase price of each bag, costing $325, to go to the Foundation, which it did. Yali explained the meaning of the various symbols on the bag and it was clear that this was an exceptional young artist with a brilliantly creative mind who saw that she was given a gift and wanted to make the world a better place. Details about the bag were presented on the Kate Spade Website:
"Yali’s “Carry On” purse and design make the statement that cancer survivors “carry on” courageously and elegantly with life in the face of their medical baggage. The design details illustrate Yali’s salute to cancer survivors. She chose to have the interior of the bag replicate a bandana, which many cancer patients use to disguise their hair loss during chemotherapy. The bag was, without a doubt, created with hope, strength and joy."
The Yali Carry On Kate Spade Bag is sold out, the last few of them being given to charity to raise funds for their work via auction events. But wait, that’s not all! Yali has now created a second Yali Carry On TM. It costs $25 and all of the proceeds go to the department of Family Services at Children’s Memorial Hospital. According to Yali, the design of this beach tote is:
“Creative… and … functional, but has deeper meaning as well. As Yali states “The brilliant colors represent the vibrancy of life; the bird symbolizes the freedom and beauty of expression. The wings of the bird, created by hand prints, remind us of our unique abilities to overcome challenges.”
If you are interested in purchasing a bag, please let me know and I will be in touch with Yali to find out how you can acquire one.
Yali may be 18 years old chronologicall y but her wisdom, courage and Simhat Hayyim, joy and appreciation of life, are far beyond her years and should be an inspiration to us all. She is the emobidment of the principle taught by Rebbe Nahman of Breslov, “It is a great mitzvah to be joyous all the time!” And she is a true Mitzvah Hero, to use a term I learned from my teacher, Danny Seigel.
To learn more about Yali’s story, follow this link: http://www.wish.org/stories/hitech/professional/yali_spade
“And from Lakeview I traveled to Conover, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, and I was in Conover for six days;”
And in Conover, I met Yali and once again a seemingly ordinary encounter turned out to be extraordinary.
Who are the extraordinary people you met this week? Think about that around your Shabbat table.
Shabbat Shalom
And then I went from Indian Ridge, Marietta to Grovehurst, Marietta;
And from Marietta to Chattanooga; and I rested in Chattanooga for one hour;
And from Chattanooga to Nashville;
And from Nashville I travelled to Louisville, and it rained strongly;
And from Louisville to Indianapolis;
And from Indianapolis to the Skyway, which was slow;
And from the Skyway I traveled to Highland Park, where I rested one night;
And from Highland Park I traveled to Lakeview, Chicago and purchased a home there;
And from Lakeview I traveled to Conover, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, and I was in Conover for six days; and on the day after the Sabbath…
I returned to Lakeview and met Rebecca and Amalya, and we met the movers and unpacked;
And then it was Shabbat and we rested…
If the above sounds both familiar and a bit thin on details, it is because it is very similar to the opening verses of the second of our two parshiot this week: Matot and Ma’sei, which are also long on place names and short on details as to what occurred in those places. The details are so limited that when mentioning the Sinai Desert, there is not even a mention of Mt. Sinai let alone the retelling or even noting of God’s revelation to B’nai Yisrael at Mt. Sinai. The filling in of the details is often left to the midrash.
If I stopped at the list I made above, you might have thought that nothing of interest happened on my drive. You would not have known that it rained for three solid hours between Nashville and Louisville so hard that you could not see more than ten feet in front of you; or that I stopped in Chattanooga to see my sister, Vicki, my brother-in-law, Jason, or my very cute nephew, Jordan; nor would you have known that it took me 17 hours to get from Marietta to Highland Park, Il instead of the 11 hours Mapquest told me it would take.
Often, I find that it is that which appears to be most mundane along these trips that turns out to be the most powerful and the most moving. It can be a sunset over the highway, or heron gliding past your car to land on a roadside lake. Or it can be a chance encounter with a person. I had many such encounters during the past month but want to share only one with you this Shabbat.
I went to the Amanut Building – the Arts Building – at Ramah in Wisconsin to see what was going on there. It was a beautiful day and from the porch that connects the art building to the woodshop, you could see the gorgeous lake, the island seemingly a finger’s length away. A young woman was teaching campers how to make their own tote bags, to personalize them, and to use them to tell a story. I was intrigued. After the activity ended, I asked Yali about her project. She showed me her portfolio and there was a photo of a Kate Spade Bag, black with embossed paisleys and other shapes. I asked Yali about the bag. What followed was far beyond my imagination.
Yali is young, energetic, vibrant, and so happy. Her smile is infectious and people tell me that you will never see Yali look any differently. The art staff and the aidah staff cherish her equally. The campers who work with Yali clearly love her. She is, I am told, a person with an exceptional work ethic and an incredible heart. And you would never know it but Yali is also a cancer survivor. She is 18 now and about to start college, an achievement that many take for granted, but my guess is that Yali never doubted that she would reach.
While Yali was fighting her battle with cancer, she had the opportunity to have a wish fulfilled through the Make-a-Wish Foundation. She wanted to design a bag with Kate Spade, and she did it! She wanted 50% of the purchase price of each bag, costing $325, to go to the Foundation, which it did. Yali explained the meaning of the various symbols on the bag and it was clear that this was an exceptional young artist with a brilliantly creative mind who saw that she was given a gift and wanted to make the world a better place. Details about the bag were presented on the Kate Spade Website:
"Yali’s “Carry On” purse and design make the statement that cancer survivors “carry on” courageously and elegantly with life in the face of their medical baggage. The design details illustrate Yali’s salute to cancer survivors. She chose to have the interior of the bag replicate a bandana, which many cancer patients use to disguise their hair loss during chemotherapy. The bag was, without a doubt, created with hope, strength and joy."
The Yali Carry On Kate Spade Bag is sold out, the last few of them being given to charity to raise funds for their work via auction events. But wait, that’s not all! Yali has now created a second Yali Carry On TM. It costs $25 and all of the proceeds go to the department of Family Services at Children’s Memorial Hospital. According to Yali, the design of this beach tote is:
“Creative… and … functional, but has deeper meaning as well. As Yali states “The brilliant colors represent the vibrancy of life; the bird symbolizes the freedom and beauty of expression. The wings of the bird, created by hand prints, remind us of our unique abilities to overcome challenges.”
If you are interested in purchasing a bag, please let me know and I will be in touch with Yali to find out how you can acquire one.
Yali may be 18 years old chronologicall y but her wisdom, courage and Simhat Hayyim, joy and appreciation of life, are far beyond her years and should be an inspiration to us all. She is the emobidment of the principle taught by Rebbe Nahman of Breslov, “It is a great mitzvah to be joyous all the time!” And she is a true Mitzvah Hero, to use a term I learned from my teacher, Danny Seigel.
To learn more about Yali’s story, follow this link: http://www.wish.org/stories/hitech/professional/yali_spade
“And from Lakeview I traveled to Conover, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, and I was in Conover for six days;”
And in Conover, I met Yali and once again a seemingly ordinary encounter turned out to be extraordinary.
Who are the extraordinary people you met this week? Think about that around your Shabbat table.
Shabbat Shalom
Friday, July 10, 2009
Parashat Pinhas 2009
It is Friday afternoon and I am sitting “al hamirpeset sheli” – one of, my favorite porches in the world. I didn’t expect to be sitting here again and the path to this spot was long, winding, and challenging, but here I am, once again sitting on the back porch of the library, the sifriah, that overlooks beautiful Lake Buckatabon, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. There is a slight breeze, the temperature is just right, and the clouds blend with the aqua sky in a picture perfect fashion. It is good to be home.
The past three weeks alone have been crazy, absent any sense of inner Peace, of Shalom or of Shleimut – completeness. On June 24, we packed up the house. On the 25th, the movers took all of our worldly possessions, and on the 26th, we went and closed on the sale of our house in Atlanta. Thanks to our friends, Randy and Nancy, Natan and Ilana Gorod, we were not homeless nor were we wandering Jews. On June 29 – 30, my brief journey with the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School came to an end. And then, last Sunday, I wrote the last paragraph of the chapter of life in Atlanta that started in the fall of 1996 and came to an end on July 5th. On July 6th, I closed on the purchase of our new home on Pine Grove between Waveland and Grace in the Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago, and then immediately left for Conover for a week of visiting and reconnecting at Ramah in Wisconsin.
I was unsettled, lacking balance and inner Peace, until I pulled into the parking lot of camp at 11:45 pm that night. And as soon as I turned off the car, got out, and took a deep breath of the Northwoods air, I felt the start of the return of shleimut, of balance, of quiet, and of sense of purpose. There will not be complete shleimut until all of us are together in Chicago – Elan and Mira back from there fantastic summer at Ramah Darom, and Becca and Amalya from the drive from Atlanta. But the return of balance and quiet, of purpose and professional fulfillment is on its way.
This would be a week to listen and to learn, to rediscover the camp that was my summer home for 20 years and that would once again become my summer home as of September 1. This would be a week to observe the similarities and the differences, from my childhood and from my previous professional time here. This also became a week for unexpected reunions with former campers who became staff members years ago and then became peers and friends, people like Diane Kushnir Halivni, Amy Israel, and Dorit Shiloah Boxer. I started to connect with the younger staff, who were not campers when I was here last, as well as a chance to see old friends who are still coming to camp. To list all the incredible things I saw, and learned, would take too much space and time, for now, as the sun is getting closer to setting and Shabbat will soon be upon us.
In my professional and personal journey this year, I spent much time missing a sense of Peace, hoping for its return, wondering where the places were that I might find it. The Slonimer Rebbe, in his work Netivot Shalom, writes at length about Peace in his comments on this weeks Torah portion, for the Biblical character, Pinhas, is giving the Covenant of Peace, a Brit Shalom, at the very opening of our Parashah. The reasons for the giving of that Brit are complicated and not the subject of my thoughts at this time, although they are compelling and worthy of consideration; rather, the Slonimer Rebbe uses the opportunity to identify three kinds of Shleimut – of wholeness – that are part of the Brit Shalom: Peace with Yourself, Peace with your fellow human beings, and Peace with God. According to the Slonimer, Shabbat is the ritual manifestation of all three levels of Shleimut and thus a taste of the world to come.
I am truly blessed to be at a physical place, Lake Buckatabon and Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, and at a time – the arrival of Shabbat – to feel the return of those levels of shleimut:
Inner calm -the knowledge that I am at the right place personally and professionally;
Wholeness with people – back at a place where I know I can make a difference and where I can be impacted upon by others; and
Wholeness with God – here, along with only a few other places in the world, first and foremost the Land of Israel, as well as the Waterfall at Ramah Darom – the sense of the Divine Presence is palpable, there is a feeling of closeness with the Shekhina that I have not felt in a long time.
I hope that in your travels, you are fortunate to find a mirpeset – a porch – that you can dream from, build from, and create from and I hope that each of you has or will find a place and time where you achieve the Covenant of Peace at its fullest – Wholeness with Self, with Others, and with the Creator of Wholeness and Peace.
Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Shabbat Bamidbar
I sat at the table, looked around, and was humbled by the moment. I knew 90% of the people in the room – some were my counselors or were married to my counselors, some were my campers. There were board members knew me from childhood and others who I was meeting for the first time. Down three seats from me was my former camper at Ramah Darom now on the year-round staff in Chicago and to my left sat my mentor, colleague and friend, Rabbi Soloff. When Dr. Kopin spoke, I could not look up. And then he spoke words that I never imagined I would hear, “And now we will hear a few words of Torah from Rabbi Loren Sykes, the new director of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin.”
I spoke briefly and I hope coherently. I had written, either literally or in my head, about 30 different divrei Torah leading up to the board meeting. In the end, however, looking around the room, I talked about a verse from Psalms, “Serve God with Joy and Rejoice with Trembling…” I was overwhelmed with feelings of joy to be returning to camping, to Ramah, and to Ramah in Wisconsin. Similarly, I was overjoyed to be working with Rabbi Soloff again, as well as with members of the board I knew for years. At the same time, there was trembling – about the return to life and death responsibility and about the task of continuing to insure the legacy of the premier Jewish summer camp that is Ramah in Wisconsin.
The meeting was inspiring and not just because of the pictures of the new Chadar Ochel being completed in advance of the summer. In the midst of a tanking economy, I sat and listened to a board that is forward thinking, that is investing in the future and is convinced, and rightly so, that it will continue to play a significant role in the field and in the Jewish future. While no institution is immune from the economic turndown, this is a group with passion, vision, and commitment, so much so that they are embarking on the next long-range plan and are willing to invest in growing the professional leadership of the organization when so many others are contracting. And it is a family with deep commitments so that family members are making gifts to make it possible for campers to come to camp this summer even as it also makes gifts to insure the ongoing health of the institution.
The evening ended with plans for more meetings, lots of hugs and congratulations, a special conversation with Bob Less, and even some cleaning up.
To say that these are challenging times financially is an understatement. The financial challenges are pushing many organizations to close, to abandon their missions, to opine about the future, or to cast off core values just for the sake of survival with no plan or vision for what future success can look like. And there are plenty of entrepreneurial new Jewish undertaking that are struggling but are fighting to stay with their mission. It is important to hear stories like that of Ramah in Wisconsin – stories that remind us that sticking to core values while continuing to innovate is a great insurer of success and viability; stories that demonstrate that long-term continuity of leadership, where that leadership is strong, vibrant, and striving for constant excellence and change, serves institutions well and far better than either constant change in leadership or leaving people in place for decades when they haven’t done anything different in decades ever will; stories that tell of institutions committed to visions of a bright Jewish future that believe they can make a reality, not because they live in a fantasy land, but because they are developed in mindful and realistic ways by people who are willing to put their money and time and efforts where their mouths are, who talk the talk AND walk the walk – to inspire us to think in like minded ways.
***
Yet one more Israel related holiday celebrated in the Diaspora. Yom Yerushalayim – Jerusalem Day – commemorating 42 years since the reunification of Jerusalem as the united capital of the Jewish people was Thursday. I felt empty, a reminder that at the deepest part of my soul, I want to be in Israel, in Jerusalem, pe
rmanently. Celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day, and Jerusalem Day always feel empty to me when I am sitting in Atlanta, or anywhere that is not Israel. I can have some lousy falafel or watch a Throwdown with Bobby Flay about the best falafel in New York. I can look at pictures. I can see all of the changes in my friends Facebook status for those living in Israel, but it feels empty.
I will be heading to Israel on Sunday with Mira for weddings (Mazal Tov Mishpachat Keren) for B’nai Mitzvah (Mazal Tov Mishpachat Schorsch Moses) for Shavuot, for work, and for some soulful restoration – reconnection, physically and spiritually. And while I am so very excited to be going, to be joining so many for such wonderful occasions, to be giving Mira a chance to reconnect with her friends and with the Land, I also know that ultimately I will have to leave again. It is so very hard to think about, and it raises the question for me of what it really means to place Jerusalem above our greatest Joy.
***
As we prepare to enter Shabbat, to start reading a new Book, Bamidbar, we are entering a new phase in life. This will be our last Shabbat as a family in Atlanta. Mira and I will be gone and then Elan and Mira will be off to camp. On Wednesday, Elan graduated from the 8th Grade at the Epstein School and Mira completed elementary school with her 5th Grade Gesher Ceremony. Lots of endings and new beginnings – a new city, a new job, new schools. I find myself wondering – How did it happen that I am the parent of a high school student, a middle schooler, and a second grader? Kids, we are very proud of you.
Finally, this coming week, Becca and I will celebrate our anniversary. Once again, we will not be together. In the past, I was at camp and she was working a program for the Foundation for Jewish Camp, or I was at one wedding and she was at another. This time, I will be in Israel with Mira. Mazal Tov an all my love on 16 wonderful years and to many, many more.
Shabbat Shalom.
I spoke briefly and I hope coherently. I had written, either literally or in my head, about 30 different divrei Torah leading up to the board meeting. In the end, however, looking around the room, I talked about a verse from Psalms, “Serve God with Joy and Rejoice with Trembling…” I was overwhelmed with feelings of joy to be returning to camping, to Ramah, and to Ramah in Wisconsin. Similarly, I was overjoyed to be working with Rabbi Soloff again, as well as with members of the board I knew for years. At the same time, there was trembling – about the return to life and death responsibility and about the task of continuing to insure the legacy of the premier Jewish summer camp that is Ramah in Wisconsin.
The meeting was inspiring and not just because of the pictures of the new Chadar Ochel being completed in advance of the summer. In the midst of a tanking economy, I sat and listened to a board that is forward thinking, that is investing in the future and is convinced, and rightly so, that it will continue to play a significant role in the field and in the Jewish future. While no institution is immune from the economic turndown, this is a group with passion, vision, and commitment, so much so that they are embarking on the next long-range plan and are willing to invest in growing the professional leadership of the organization when so many others are contracting. And it is a family with deep commitments so that family members are making gifts to make it possible for campers to come to camp this summer even as it also makes gifts to insure the ongoing health of the institution.
The evening ended with plans for more meetings, lots of hugs and congratulations, a special conversation with Bob Less, and even some cleaning up.
To say that these are challenging times financially is an understatement. The financial challenges are pushing many organizations to close, to abandon their missions, to opine about the future, or to cast off core values just for the sake of survival with no plan or vision for what future success can look like. And there are plenty of entrepreneurial new Jewish undertaking that are struggling but are fighting to stay with their mission. It is important to hear stories like that of Ramah in Wisconsin – stories that remind us that sticking to core values while continuing to innovate is a great insurer of success and viability; stories that demonstrate that long-term continuity of leadership, where that leadership is strong, vibrant, and striving for constant excellence and change, serves institutions well and far better than either constant change in leadership or leaving people in place for decades when they haven’t done anything different in decades ever will; stories that tell of institutions committed to visions of a bright Jewish future that believe they can make a reality, not because they live in a fantasy land, but because they are developed in mindful and realistic ways by people who are willing to put their money and time and efforts where their mouths are, who talk the talk AND walk the walk – to inspire us to think in like minded ways.
***
Yet one more Israel related holiday celebrated in the Diaspora. Yom Yerushalayim – Jerusalem Day – commemorating 42 years since the reunification of Jerusalem as the united capital of the Jewish people was Thursday. I felt empty, a reminder that at the deepest part of my soul, I want to be in Israel, in Jerusalem, pe
rmanently. Celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day, and Jerusalem Day always feel empty to me when I am sitting in Atlanta, or anywhere that is not Israel. I can have some lousy falafel or watch a Throwdown with Bobby Flay about the best falafel in New York. I can look at pictures. I can see all of the changes in my friends Facebook status for those living in Israel, but it feels empty.I will be heading to Israel on Sunday with Mira for weddings (Mazal Tov Mishpachat Keren) for B’nai Mitzvah (Mazal Tov Mishpachat Schorsch Moses) for Shavuot, for work, and for some soulful restoration – reconnection, physically and spiritually. And while I am so very excited to be going, to be joining so many for such wonderful occasions, to be giving Mira a chance to reconnect with her friends and with the Land, I also know that ultimately I will have to leave again. It is so very hard to think about, and it raises the question for me of what it really means to place Jerusalem above our greatest Joy.
***
As we prepare to enter Shabbat, to start reading a new Book, Bamidbar, we are entering a new phase in life. This will be our last Shabbat as a family in Atlanta. Mira and I will be gone and then Elan and Mira will be off to camp. On Wednesday, Elan graduated from the 8th Grade at the Epstein School and Mira completed elementary school with her 5th Grade Gesher Ceremony. Lots of endings and new beginnings – a new city, a new job, new schools. I find myself wondering – How did it happen that I am the parent of a high school student, a middle schooler, and a second grader? Kids, we are very proud of you.
Finally, this coming week, Becca and I will celebrate our anniversary. Once again, we will not be together. In the past, I was at camp and she was working a program for the Foundation for Jewish Camp, or I was at one wedding and she was at another. This time, I will be in Israel with Mira. Mazal Tov an all my love on 16 wonderful years and to many, many more.
Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Parashat Aharei Mot – Kedoshim – Transitions
I still remember that last walk down the garbage trail that wraps around Lake Buckatabon in Conver, the home of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. It was Sunday morning, the day of my 25th Nivonim reunion, the second to last Shabbat as the executive director of Camp Ramah Darom. I remember the lily pads and the glass like reflection of the calm lake. I remember standing on the back porch of the sifria (library), my favorite place in camp, trying to take in the view, to remember it for always, as this was to be my last summer as Ramah director.
I remember the last Shabbat as director of Camp Ramah Darom. I remember the last night, all of the hugs and farewells, the tears and the loving family. I remember the last morning tefillah and the walk to the parking lot to send all of the campers on the buses. The mixed feeling of sadness to be leaving the camp I helped build for the last time as director and the relief of knowing that the campers were returning to their families and that I would now only be responsible for the physical, spiritual, and emotional well-being of my direct descendants. I remember coming back from Israel for Camp Yofi, saying so long to my dear Darom family members, from the kitchen, from housekeeping, and from maintenance, and to the Yofi family as well. This was truly going to be my last day in camp as a Ramah director and I wanted to take it all in.
Over a fifteen year period, first as assistant director of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin and then as the founding executive director of Ramah Darom, I was blessed to meet incredible people, to be part of lots of fantastic firsts, to make a contribution to the future of the Jewish People, and to be the beneficiary of the investment of so many people in my personal and professional development. Over thirty plus years, my friends, most of my family, my wife, and much of my soul developed as they did because of this magical relationship. Yet, these blessings did not come for free. They had a price, as all things do. And that price was the giving over of most of my soul to the endeavor. After fifteen years of building and investing, I was tired, exhausted actually, on every level. I needed a break and I though I needed a totally new role in my rabbinic life.
As a family, we had an incredible year in Israel. We loved being there, being enveloped by the kedushah – the sanctity – of the Land and of the City of Yerushalayim. My soul was restored. We fell in love with our friends, our neighborhood, Our Land. We wanted to stay, forever, and we know that we will return permanently in the not too distant future. But we knew that we were returning to the US as the Fellowship that I was on required.
In looking for a new position, I was intrigued by the world of adult Jewish learning and the opportunity to work with the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School as the North American Director was a great opportunity. The people at Melton North America and in Israel, the board, the site directors, the students and the faculty are all wonderful. I have a deep and abiding respect for what Florence Melton created, what her son, Gordy Zacks perpetuates, and how deeply lives are touched by the Mini-School. At the same time, it became clear to me during this year that this was not my calling, that my personal and professional aspirations were different, that my soul yearned for more direct service on behalf of Judaism and Jews. The Melton executive committee and our international director, Dr. Yonatan Mirvis, were exceptionally understanding of the situation and accepted my resignation of the position effective July 31.
In thinking about what I was supposed to do next, a few things became clear. First and foremost, my rabbinic calling is about direct personal interaction and investment in people and in communities. Second, that while there is a cost to givng over your soul, the way I am wired requires that I have a position where I can give over some of my soul – not all – but at least some of my soul, I have to have deep passion for the work that I do. Third, that I am doing my most sacred work – my avodat hakodesh – when I am working with children, teens, college and graduate students, and their families. In pursuing the next chapter of my professional life, it was clear that fulfilling these aspirations were going to weigh heavily on the decision. I am blessed to have great confidants and friends and thank them for their insight and advice.
I am often asked which camp I love more: Ramah in Wisconsin or Ramah Darom. My answer is that I love them equally and differently for Ramah in Wisconsin is the summer family I grew up in and Ramah Darom is the summer family I helped build. I will always love both and will always feel a part of both families. We were up at Ramah Darom for Pesach and it was like returning home to family, from the Darom staff to the Pesach families to the year-round family members in maintenance, housekeeping, hospitality and commissary. Our love for the South, for all of the campers I had the honor to meet and whose lives I was a part of, to the staff, to the families, will be enduring the rest of this lifetime.
We are leaving the South. In June, we will be moving to Chicago. We will miss all of our friends in Marietta, at Etz Chaim, at the Epstein School, and at Ramah Darom. And we look forward to reconnecting with all of our friends in the Lakeview neighborhood in Chicago and throughout the Chicago area. On September 1, I am returning to the camping world, my rabbinic calling, to Lake Buckatabon, in a new role – one I never imagined – as the new director of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. Rabbi David Soloff will continue as the senior leader, as executive director, and coming back to Ramah in Wisconsin can only be compared to being a former player at Notre Dame who gets to go back and coach under the leadership of Knute Rockne as the Athletic Director. It is a truly humbling and exciting opportunity to return to the place where I fell in love with Jewish camping, with living Judaism, and with my soul mate, Rebecca, to continue to contribute to the Jewish future. I am looking forward to joining an incredible team that includes friends with whom I was a camper and staff member, former campers from Wisconsin, an outstanding board, and even a former Ramah Darom camper, counselor, and Rosh Aidah. My deepest gratitude to the board of directors, the executive committee and the lay leadership of the camp under the expert direction of Dr. Jeff Kopin, President of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, for their confidence and investment in a remarkable institution and for their investment in bringing me back to Conover.
To our Ramah Darom family – thank you for the truly once in a lifetime experience of building a new Jewish home for the Jewish future in the South, for your ongoing friendship, and for all that you have given to us.
To our Camp Yofi family – we look forward to continuing to build the Yofi network and to creating a fund that provides Jewish communal support to Jewish families with children with autism.
And to the Ramah in Wisconsin family – thank you for your warm embrace and for this truly incredible opportunity.
As I wish you all a Shabbat Shalom, I can see the benches being carried down from the Chadar Ochel to the Lake, the siddurim being placed, and the sun getting ready to be perfectly positioned for Kabbalat Shabbat in Conover. I see the lily pads. And I look forward to returning to the back porch of the sifriah to see the first of many incredible sunsets, and to doing the avodat hakodesh that is directing a ramah camp.
Shabbat Shalom.
I remember the last Shabbat as director of Camp Ramah Darom. I remember the last night, all of the hugs and farewells, the tears and the loving family. I remember the last morning tefillah and the walk to the parking lot to send all of the campers on the buses. The mixed feeling of sadness to be leaving the camp I helped build for the last time as director and the relief of knowing that the campers were returning to their families and that I would now only be responsible for the physical, spiritual, and emotional well-being of my direct descendants. I remember coming back from Israel for Camp Yofi, saying so long to my dear Darom family members, from the kitchen, from housekeeping, and from maintenance, and to the Yofi family as well. This was truly going to be my last day in camp as a Ramah director and I wanted to take it all in.
Over a fifteen year period, first as assistant director of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin and then as the founding executive director of Ramah Darom, I was blessed to meet incredible people, to be part of lots of fantastic firsts, to make a contribution to the future of the Jewish People, and to be the beneficiary of the investment of so many people in my personal and professional development. Over thirty plus years, my friends, most of my family, my wife, and much of my soul developed as they did because of this magical relationship. Yet, these blessings did not come for free. They had a price, as all things do. And that price was the giving over of most of my soul to the endeavor. After fifteen years of building and investing, I was tired, exhausted actually, on every level. I needed a break and I though I needed a totally new role in my rabbinic life.
As a family, we had an incredible year in Israel. We loved being there, being enveloped by the kedushah – the sanctity – of the Land and of the City of Yerushalayim. My soul was restored. We fell in love with our friends, our neighborhood, Our Land. We wanted to stay, forever, and we know that we will return permanently in the not too distant future. But we knew that we were returning to the US as the Fellowship that I was on required.
In looking for a new position, I was intrigued by the world of adult Jewish learning and the opportunity to work with the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School as the North American Director was a great opportunity. The people at Melton North America and in Israel, the board, the site directors, the students and the faculty are all wonderful. I have a deep and abiding respect for what Florence Melton created, what her son, Gordy Zacks perpetuates, and how deeply lives are touched by the Mini-School. At the same time, it became clear to me during this year that this was not my calling, that my personal and professional aspirations were different, that my soul yearned for more direct service on behalf of Judaism and Jews. The Melton executive committee and our international director, Dr. Yonatan Mirvis, were exceptionally understanding of the situation and accepted my resignation of the position effective July 31.
In thinking about what I was supposed to do next, a few things became clear. First and foremost, my rabbinic calling is about direct personal interaction and investment in people and in communities. Second, that while there is a cost to givng over your soul, the way I am wired requires that I have a position where I can give over some of my soul – not all – but at least some of my soul, I have to have deep passion for the work that I do. Third, that I am doing my most sacred work – my avodat hakodesh – when I am working with children, teens, college and graduate students, and their families. In pursuing the next chapter of my professional life, it was clear that fulfilling these aspirations were going to weigh heavily on the decision. I am blessed to have great confidants and friends and thank them for their insight and advice.
I am often asked which camp I love more: Ramah in Wisconsin or Ramah Darom. My answer is that I love them equally and differently for Ramah in Wisconsin is the summer family I grew up in and Ramah Darom is the summer family I helped build. I will always love both and will always feel a part of both families. We were up at Ramah Darom for Pesach and it was like returning home to family, from the Darom staff to the Pesach families to the year-round family members in maintenance, housekeeping, hospitality and commissary. Our love for the South, for all of the campers I had the honor to meet and whose lives I was a part of, to the staff, to the families, will be enduring the rest of this lifetime.
We are leaving the South. In June, we will be moving to Chicago. We will miss all of our friends in Marietta, at Etz Chaim, at the Epstein School, and at Ramah Darom. And we look forward to reconnecting with all of our friends in the Lakeview neighborhood in Chicago and throughout the Chicago area. On September 1, I am returning to the camping world, my rabbinic calling, to Lake Buckatabon, in a new role – one I never imagined – as the new director of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. Rabbi David Soloff will continue as the senior leader, as executive director, and coming back to Ramah in Wisconsin can only be compared to being a former player at Notre Dame who gets to go back and coach under the leadership of Knute Rockne as the Athletic Director. It is a truly humbling and exciting opportunity to return to the place where I fell in love with Jewish camping, with living Judaism, and with my soul mate, Rebecca, to continue to contribute to the Jewish future. I am looking forward to joining an incredible team that includes friends with whom I was a camper and staff member, former campers from Wisconsin, an outstanding board, and even a former Ramah Darom camper, counselor, and Rosh Aidah. My deepest gratitude to the board of directors, the executive committee and the lay leadership of the camp under the expert direction of Dr. Jeff Kopin, President of Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, for their confidence and investment in a remarkable institution and for their investment in bringing me back to Conover.
To our Ramah Darom family – thank you for the truly once in a lifetime experience of building a new Jewish home for the Jewish future in the South, for your ongoing friendship, and for all that you have given to us.
To our Camp Yofi family – we look forward to continuing to build the Yofi network and to creating a fund that provides Jewish communal support to Jewish families with children with autism.
And to the Ramah in Wisconsin family – thank you for your warm embrace and for this truly incredible opportunity.
As I wish you all a Shabbat Shalom, I can see the benches being carried down from the Chadar Ochel to the Lake, the siddurim being placed, and the sun getting ready to be perfectly positioned for Kabbalat Shabbat in Conover. I see the lily pads. And I look forward to returning to the back porch of the sifriah to see the first of many incredible sunsets, and to doing the avodat hakodesh that is directing a ramah camp.
Shabbat Shalom.
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