Overwhelmed by Jewish Identity Formation

This weekend I had the pleasure of learning from an incredible professor from HUC. Our class was on Jewish identity formation. I'm still hung up on the first concept she brought to us. Jewish Educators (us) are Jewish Identity Navigators. What an overwhelming idea! How does one person help another to navigate their own journey?
I believe that the first step for the Jewish Identity Navigator is to be actively engaged in their own Jewish journey. These people need to reflect, acknowledge and wrestle with points of dissonance, and see the as opportunities for growth. Next, the navigator should acknowledge, test and push their own Jewish boundaries in order to help others define their own boundaries. My class debated whether or not Jewish Identity Navigators were responsible for setting boundaries for teens. I believe that as a youth educator it is my responsibility to set boundaries. I think that our class was debating the wrong thing. Rather than focus on whether or not we should set boundaries, we should be asking ourselves the best way to go about setting boundaries, and how to figure out where those boundaries are.
During this class we drew our own personal Jewish Journey maps- an activity I have done on more than one occasion. What I noticed this time when I was creating my map was that my journey has changed. Or rather, the perspective on my journey has changed. I realized that I had many points of dissonance that didn't appear to be points of dissonance until recently- losses, struggles as a teen, dropping out of college, not going to Israel. I somehow forgot about these crucial moments that have been moments of personal, often painful growth as a human being and as a Jew.
I feel honored to be a Jewish Identity Navigator, and engage in the holy work of guiding teens towards a meaningful Jewish life. Thanks to Cohort 1 for inspiring me!

My Kehillah Kedoshah

It's been a while. I've accepted a new position here at the Academy, which means that I officially started working on Friday. It's the first time since I was four that I am not a camper or working at a camp. It doesn't actually feel as weird as I expected it would. I'm excited to see what this year brings. I'm currently in a state of transition. I moved out of my Fellow apartment into another temporary Fellow apartment until my Houseparent apartment is ready. I half unpacked so I could feel somewhat comfortable for the time being, but didn't do much because I know that I will be moving soon. I came across old journals. I started to read my BCI journal from last summer. It is filled with notes from speakers I found interesting, observations about the community I was a part of, and lots of writing prompts from my Theater workshop.

This particular entry from that journal (I think) was just me reflecting on all that BCI had me thinking about:

I like to try and imagine myself in my ideal Jewish community. What kind of label would I give myself? I like to say that I would like to live in a pluralistic community, but really I want to experience a shomer shabbat community. I want to know what it is to be surrounded by observant, educated (I'm well aware that the two don't necessarily go hand in hand) Jews all the time. I want to understand and experiment with how flexible halakhah can be. I want to take on more mitzvot. I need a community that helps me to grow in that way. I want to keep my liberal ideals. I want to learn to appreciate all forms of Jewish expression, not just the ones that appeal to me. I want to fit into a community, yet be challenged by it.
-BCI 2010

Everything happens for a reason...

Or does it? I keep hearing this phrase a lot lately. The older I get, the less I think it is true. I've seen too many people die young, face illness, overcome an abusive past, and lose people they love. However, I look at how my life has progressed so far- if I didn't drop out of college and spend a semester very lost I wouldn't have gone to community college, which would have never given me a reason to live at Kutz for a year, which would have never given me the need to fund my own education, landing at the Binghamton mainly because it had a Jewish Studies major and was relatively cheap.

I just spent an extended weekend in Binghamton. I was last there for just a day or so last year to see some friends who were about to graduate. This time I was in town to visit with my Hillel family and just relax. I am amazed at how much I have grown since graduating, and how much working at AHA has shaped who I am today. I know I was meant to have certain interactions with specific people. They all shape who I am and how I understand the world. What's next? How do I know what the right direction is? I want to do what is going to push me to be the best person I can be. How do I know what that is? If I don't find the money to go Israel, then what do I do? I hate that my questions make me ask more questions, instead of finding answers.

Honoring the Life of Debbie Friedman z"l

I love Jewish music. The sounds of Debbie Friedman, Beth Schafer, Josh Nelson, Kol B’seder and Dan Nichols fill my iTunes. Upon learning of the death of Debbie Friedman, I smile through the tears, remembering the power of her words, and realizing the power that an individual has to positively affect the world.

Jewish music has been a part of my life during every transition and challenging moments I have struggled with. I began Religious School in our Temple’s “Bagels and Blox” program as a preschooler learning Debbie Friedman’s Aleph Bet Song, beginning my journey of Jewish learning. As a fifth grader, I learned what it was like to be comforted by the words of Debbie’s Mi Shebeirach as my Mom battled cancer. As a freshman in high school, I discovered the world of NFTY, and began to attempt to learn every Jewish song ever written. I just couldn’t get enough. I went to youth group concerts, kallot at song sessions, and had the incredible experience of being a part of two Union for Reform Judaism Biennials- singing and connecting with thousands of other like-minded Jews. During the summer of my sophomore year I attended the URJ Kutz Camp, where I was immersed in Reform Jewish living. As a junior in high school I became confirmed, singing Debbie’s “And the Youth Shall See Visions.” During my senior year of high school I sang Lechi Lach and Tefilat Haderech as I completed the Miller High School honors program at HUC-JIR in New York.

While I did begin to drift away from the Reform Movement during college, I worked for five summers at Kutz. Kutz gave me a Jewish identity, and I wanted to give back to the place that gave me so much. During one particular summer, the power of her music became clear to me. I was the assistant director for Kutz’s Mitzvah Corps program for teens on the autistic spectrum. I worked closely with a teen who didn’t have the ability to verbally communicate. He often made sounds with his throat, and pointed at things that he wanted others to notice. I struggled to understand him and was unsure of how to connect. During an evening program one night we sat in a circle to begin to say good night. We sang some songs, and decided to include Debbie Friedman’s Mi Shebeirach prayer. As our song leader strummed a few chords, I was shocked to hear my non-verbal camper in a quiet, but clear voice sing the words. He couldn’t tell me when he was hurting, or when he wanted a hug, but he could sing those words of healing.

Since hearing of Debbie’s death, I’ve been trying to figure out how to best honor her memory. I keep singing. Tonight, in the House that I live at the Jewish boarding school that I work for, songs of Debbie Friedman filled the air during our evening program. I led my girls in my favorite camp songs, shared my few stories I have from working with her at camp, and watched as my Houseparent’s 9 year old daughter ended the night by leading us all in Lechi Lach. Debbie Friedman’s memory lives on through the music that continues to touch the heart and stir the soul of generations to come. Zichrona Livracha, may her memory be for a blessing.