I've just returned from Brandeis, California which is home to the Brandeis-Bardin Campus, and summer home for the Brandeis Collegiate Institute. I spent an entire beautiful month getting in touch with nature, connecting to Jews from all over the world, exploring my Jewish identity, and growing through art.
If you know me at all, you know that you'll never find me volunteering to become one with nature or to do anything relating to art. Notice that I did not say that I was leading this program. Rather, I was a participant.
The idea for me, and for the program, was to step out of my comfort zone.
I spent the first week very frustrated with both myself and the program. I wasn't connecting with anyone. I didn't feel moved by any of the services. I found the singing lame, and the dancing boring. Beit Midrash seemed too basic for me. I began to think that maybe I had wasted my time and money. I felt too old to be there, too observant to enjoy every aspect of Shabbat. Why wasn't I spending the summer doing what I always did, work at camp?
Then, I slowly began to open up. I remember one night in particular where we experienced Beit Teshuvah, an incredible Jewish rehab program that performed in an extremely moving musical for us. I cried. A lot. I felt like I was finally, just maybe, beginning to get it- BCI, myself, my past, and how I might begin to move forward. Fast forward through some more 'out of my comfort zone' experiences. I hiked up a mountain and slept outside under the stars without a tent. I chose for my art focus to be theater. I began doing improv, writing, and opened up to that small group in my workshop, not realizing how special that time was that we had together. Another night, we got to be clowns. I was an interpretive dancing clown, showing off my lack of dancing ability. I began to look forward to singing with Harold, and dancing with Josefa. I sang a song with a friend for something we called malevah malkah, an arts performance every Saturday night. I took a trope class and chanted Torah for the first time ever without a recording or someone whispering it in my ear. For the first time ever, I studied Talmud. I began to listen to other peoples stories, and slowly share my own.
The summer arts celebration, Hagigah, happened the Thursday night before we left. Each arts workshop showed off what they had been doing all summer. My theater workshop put together their own play, based on all of the writing we had done all summer. It was incredible. I had been so frustrated during our last run through. I couldn't get across the emotion I had written down on paper. I was afraid of getting that upset and angry in front of people, because I've never done that before. The emotions were strong and I was afraid to go there. During our last rehearsal the artist in charge of theater made me physically push my hands against hers to physically feel that struggle. I couldn't do it, and began to dread the performance. About an hour later it was my workshops turn to go on stage. Would I be able to remember all of my lines? Can I really tell my story? What will people think? Something magical happened. I felt as if I was finally being revealed. We all were. The other people in my theater workshop were incredible. We each shared a part of ourselves that night, and connected to each other so deeply. It was so powerful. What was almost even more inspiring were the reactions we got from the rest of BCI after our performance. BCI is the most supportive community I have every been a part of.
The next morning, this past Friday, it was my turn to do Avodat Halev. Avodah Halev is a time when participants are assigned a time to speak- to share something about themselves. I was assigned to speak on the last day. I had all summer to think about what I would say, and by the time I was standing up in front of everyone, I still wasn't exactly sure what I would say, and how it would be received, and why I would even want anyone to know. I took a chance. A big chance. I was so introverted this summer (more than usual, if that is even possible.) I felt like so many people knew nothing about it me. I told my story. I was honest with myself, and said things out loud that I had never felt comfortable saying before. It was an extremely empowering feeling. This was also the beginning of the end of BCI. As a result of the end, or that I feel like I bared my soul during my Avodat Halev, I started crying, and it seems like I didn't stop until I stepped off the plane at Newark airport.
Now, here I am, another plane ride later, sitting in my apartment at AHA, wondering how to explain to everyone what I just did for a month. I went in to this program thinking that I was going to have a trans formative Jewish experience, one that would shape my Jewish identity. I'm not really sure that happened. I already have a strong Jewish identity. What I did gain, however, was something completely different. I feel like I can be more present and in the moment. I want to know everyones story, and truly connect. I also think this summer was a time of healing for me. I think I finally have found some of the support I have been so desperately looking for to be able to stop looking back, and let go.
So, BCI Aliyah 2010, I thank you. Thank you for sharing this incredible experience with me. You have touched my heart in such a way that I will never forget. Continue to grow, learn, and connect. Looking forward to continuing to be a part of this Jewish journey with all of you...
