What do I do now?

In the process of applying to be at BCI I've learned that it is a really special program, and something I'm really hoping that I'm given the chance to participate in. I had never heard of BCI before my friend started to work for the program, and now all of a sudden numerous important people in my life are raving about the program, sharing their stories about all that they learned when they were participants many summers ago.

I wasn't sure if I could really afford to not work for a summer, and I also wasn't sure if I would get out of doing another Jewish summer program. The last few years of my life have left me very confused Jewishly. My Jewish identity used to be something I was very sure about. I was a Reform Jew. There was nothing about that identity that bothered me. In fact, I embraced it and loved it (and found a wonderful community to call home.) I developed leadership skills at Kutz, in NFTY, and in my synagogue. I loved the idea of 'choice through knowledge' and spent much of high school acting on that idea- making educated choices about how I wanted to practice my Judaism. 

College exposed me to so many different ways of practicing Judaism. I've always loved ritual. Suddenly, I found myself exploring communities that practiced Judaism using rituals I was not accustomed to using. I was so eager to learn and tried to soak up all that I could. Now I find myself always floating between different communities, torn between who I used to be and who I think I want to ultimately become. 

I now feel like I practice Judaism in a way that so many people in my life don't understand. It frustrates me and makes me sad. How do I explain the peacefulness I get from shutting off my cell phone and turning off my computer each Friday afternoon? How do I explain the joy I get from singing my favorite Shabbat songs or praying during services? How do I explain the feeling of connection I feel from being in a community of people that (for the most part) just get it? I don't know how to explain how much things like Shabbat mean to me, if it doesn't mean anything to others. 

I love the fact that I'm at the point know where I can honestly say that I think of my Judaism as beyond the dividing denominations. Now I am just totally confused about how to figure out what kind of Rabbinical School I want to go to, what kind of Rabbi I want to be, and ultimately, what kind of Jew I want to be.

I feel like all of this confusion can't be good for my head...

Finding God on the basketball court...

During my last semester of college, I found myself being asked a lot of tough questions (coming from both myself, and other people.) My Hillel Rabbi always managed to ask me the type of questions that kept me up at night. One day towards the end of my last semester he had to ask the tough one. God. "What are going to say to the kids who have the God questions?" In my head I panicked, having no idea how to respond to a question like that. For a while, I also panicked that I had chosen the wrong job and wrong career path. After my anxiety subsided, my Rabbi reminded me that most God questions aren't necessarily about God, and more have to do with why things happen the way they do. Or at least that's what I understood.

As a Jewish Life fellow here I get to help create a lot of interesting Jewish programs. At our last meeting we were introduced to a program that didn't necessarily need our help, it was just something that was happening, so we should know about it. We offered a Shabbat minyan alternative- a panel discussion called "Are you there God, it's me, AHA." Cute name. I was intrigued by the program and was looking forward to observing it this Shabbat. Then I got an e-mail asking me to be a part of the panel. 

What? I thought I wasn't going to really need to talk about God? As soon as I found out who the other people on the panel were, I tried to figure out what perspective I was supposed to bring to the table. You had the Orthodox Jew, the academic, the therapist...and me. I tried to figure out what God answer I was expected to give based on the others around me...and then I realized that that wasn't the point.

I've never been asked to speak about God in a public way, and I was really nervous. I said things that surprised me, if that makes any sense.

I spoke about the few times I feel as thought I have felt God in my life, using examples from the 10th grade confirmation essay I had to write several years ago. I felt God when I made a 3 point shot during a basketball game. I felt God when I was in the middle of a mosh pit of teenagers during a NFTY song session. I also felt God during my summers working at Kutz when I was able to communicate with one of my non-verbal teens on the autistic spectrum. I realized all of these experiences have a common thread- my interactions with other people. I cannot recall a time where I have felt God's strong presence without being a part of a community.

I wonder how I get to that point? How does one encounter God on an individual basis? Is it bad that I haven't been able to feel God without being present with others? 

I don't know. I think that I have to get used to that. Thank you Deans of Jewish life for asking me to be involved with things that keep me up at night just thinking...

A look back, and a leap forward

2009 was a good year. A really good year. I spent my last semester of college learning from incredible people, taking in all the wonderful things that I loved about college. I met some of my best friends at Binghamton. Six months out of college it's nice to know that I'm still close with the ones that were really important to me. This summer was not the most memorable summer, but one that allowed me to grow and realize what is really important in my life. Now here I am, working at my first real job, and loving every minute of it. Every day I wake up excited to see what the day will bring-solidifying my decision to commit to working in the Jewish world long-term.

I've never been one to keep New Year's resolutions, but here is what I did this year:

-Graduated college


-Kept in touch with friends from college


-Got an awesome job


-Lived outside of NY state for the first time...ever

-Got healthier (lost 15 pounds and started going to the gym every other day...I'm able to run 1+ miles and bike 3+ miles-who have I become?!)

Some things I've decided to work on for 2010:

-Pray every day (I love liturgy, I teach liturgy- I feel like I need to be doing a better job of practicing what I preach)

-Go to the gym every day (but  take off a day on the weekend) I feel so much better when I go to the gym so why not go more often?

-Be conscious of what I am consuming, and make healthier choices (the Jewish food movement has always sparked my interest, and it's something I want to integrate into my life.)

-Learn how to be financially responsible (For the first time in a long time, I do not have to worry about having enough money to eat, pay the few bills I have, etc., and am not so good at budgeting what I have.)

My home(s)

It's difficult being in a place that's supposed to be "home," but seems anything but that.  My parents moved only once while I was living at home. I didn't have to switch schools, so it wasn't a huge adjustment. It got really weird when my parents moved while I was in college- meaning that if I were to spend any time in their home, it would be in a house that I felt no connection to, since I never actually lived there.

Growing up in a tight-knit synagogue like the Reform Temple of Suffern, I became aware of the importance of giving back to my community, wherever I may find myself. The summer my synagogue closed its doors was during my time as an RA at Kutz. I knew the date of my synagogue's last service, and asked for special permission to leave camp to attend the service. I dreaded that day. How could I say goodbye to the place where I spent more time during my high school years than any other place? Countless shul-ins, youth group board meetings, services, hebrew school classes, auctions, purim schpiels, etc. Before I left for camp that summer I went around and took pictures. I wanted to capture the memories I have every time I walked into that sanctuary.

 I tried to capture the feeling I got when I was standing next to my Rabbi, filling in for our student cantors when they were not with us for Shabbat. I loved that feeling. It's something I haven't been able to feel since. I've led services in many different locations, and nothing has felt quite as intimate and spiritual as leading my own congregational family in prayer. As I sat during that last service and held back tears (and later broke down on the way home...) I wondered what it would be like to come home from college and not have a congregation to call home.

What do you do when your spiritual home physically no longer exists? Maybe that's why I feel like I'm constantly searching. I can't quite fit in anywhere. I've gone to numerous services at the synagogue my congregation merged with, but it's just not the same. The building isn't all that unfamiliar, either. Between the many hours I spent during Kadimah in the new synagogue, and the summer I spent a few weeks interning for the Rabbi, it's the closest thing I have to a congregation. A part of it has to do with my issues with Reform and denominational Judaism, but maybe there's more to it than just my own struggles with Judaism.
I found a new home when I went to Binghamton.

I found mentors in my Hillel staff, and best friends in my Hillel leadership team members. I felt supported, encouraged, loved, challenged, and most of all...connected. The relationships I valued so much from college still continue today. Outside of the Hillel bubble it has been interesting to watch each other figure out how Judaism works (or doesn't)  in the real world.
One constant (but temporary) Jewish community I've had is NFTY/Kutz.

Despite all of the change I've experienced in the past several years, I am still willing to call that community magical. It's one of those communities that are indescribable to those who haven't experienced its power.
Now I find myself at AHA, and while I call it home for now, I know that it is most likely not permanent...

And still, after all of my searching, I still find that I love building Jewish community wherever I am.

A label that I might actually like...

My friend David over at The Reform Shuckle is someone who I spent several summers with at the URJ Kutz Camp. He's one of the few people who I feel like I truly connect with in terms of our struggle with the Reform Movement and Reform Judaism.

In his latest blog post, David speaks of the ‘Reform intellectual community.’ My first instinct after reading this was kind of to just roll my eyes, thinking that this was just an attempt to label David and a few of his friends as an elite group of Reform Jews. I read the whole post, and then started to follow the comments and conversations that resulted from the post. One commenter asked David if he could list a few women that might fit into this community he was describing, since he only listed some male examples. He lists some female leaders I have met or heard about…and at the end of the list was me. Ironically, another commentator later suggested that Rabbi Elyse Frishman (editor of Mishkan Tefilah, the Reform Movement’s new siddur) to the list, who happens to be the first female Rabbi that I can remember knowing (she was the Rabbi of my synagogue for several years when I was younger.) I like to think that maybe my often beyond boundaries thoughts about Judaism might have actually come from somewhere, and I’m not just crazy!

David defines the Reform intellectual community as “the group of Reform Jews who are actively thinking about and actively re-thinking what Reform Judaism is and who actively consider the implications of living as a Reform Jew." While I don't necessarily have a problem with with this, I want to know why we can’t fit into the Reform Movement. Why isn’t their room for us? Growing up in the Reform Movement is the reason why I am the Jew I am today. These people (and more) that David mentions are all on the fringes of the movement. As I am just beginning to think about what kind of adult Jewish community I want to become a part of, I am sad to say that the Reform Community is not an option (for more reasons than just this, but still…) Are there enough of these types of people that David mentions to find a community as I get older (and not just an internet based community?)

While I don’t really have a problem with this label, I just wonder if there is something proactive that we can be doing. Or does it matter? Maybe we’ll always be trying to figure it out. Maybe we’ll just all become Jewish professionals and find others to build the communities we dream about. Or maybe we’ll just continue to talk about it.

It is people like David that make me feel less lonely in my search to figure out my own Judaism and to find a community that will connect me to others, and challenge me at the same time.

Being in the Present

I'm in New York until next Sunday for winter break. I'm amazed at how little has changed here, and how different I am. It is really difficult for me to be here, and I'm looking forward to being back at AHA soon.
I have a big problem with being present. I want to enjoy and just try and be in the now. I find it near impossible. I am always waiting for the next thing to happen in my life. When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to get to college. When I was in college I couldn't wait to start my new job. Now I find myself searching to fill my summer and next year. If it's possible, should I stay at AHA? Should I explore Hillel jobs? Should I apply to grad school? Should I go to Israel?
This stream of thought is constantly running through my mind.
I've decided to be selfish this summer. I am applying to spend three weeks in California participating in the Brandeis Collegiate Institute (BCI) on the Brandeis-Bardin Campus of the American Jewish University (AJU.) First, I am really looking forward to being a participant. I can't remember when I wasn't leading some aspect of whatever Jewish community I was a part of. It can be exhausting. After a year of working full time in the Jewish world, I am looking forward to reflecting on my own Jewish journey. I have certainly had a lot of fascinating Jewish experiences since high school, and look forward to using my time at BCI to discover new ways to express my Judaism and to begin to figure out Judaism for me as an adult.

Kelly the Hebrew teacher

I am really passionate about education. Since Middle School when I became a madricha in my Hebrew School, I've found the task of passing on my heritage to others to be exciting, rewarding, and one of the most important things we as Jews should be doing.
This year, I decided to contact the local Reform Synagogue to see if their were any Hebrew tutoring positions open. After a few e-mail exchanges, a meeting and a phone call with the Rabbi, I found myself in the 6th grade boys classroom. Kelly, the Hebrew Teacher?
As scary as that sounds to you, it sounded even scarier to me. I had absolutely zero prior experience teaching in a formal setting. What was I getting myself into?
There is a reason why the grade is divided into two classes by gender. They are more than a handful on their own. When they get together, it's nearly impossible to do anything productive with them.
For the most part, I feel like I am really just a babysitter attempting to keep the kids focused on their task. Most can barely read Hebrew, and are just memorizing prayers. Isn't education more than just memorization? I imagine that, for a lot of these kids, the only Jewish Education they are getting is from attending Hebrew School. If this is so, they are only learning how to memorize prayers. How are they going to be able to grow into Jewish adults that understand the importance of building Jewish community?
A lot of these kids don't care. It really worries me. How do I make them care? How do I make sure that they find the desire to continue to explore their Jewish identity and heritage beyond the classroom?
I'm inclined to say that Jewish day schools are the answer. Obviously, this is not the answer to my 6th grade class...but in general, I think that is the answer to educate young Jews. On the other hand, I went to public school and I think I turned out okay...

Sometimes, my friends make me feel like an underachiever

I have amazing friends who do amazing things. I always talk about how I want to change the world. At this point in my life, I feel like sometimes I am just talk. What can I really do while working in a Jewish bubble? I do feel like I make in impact on individuals here at AHA, but beyond that, what am I really doing?
My friend Amy visited me last night. We met in 2006, and worked at Kutz together for two summers. It had been about two years since I've seen her. She got in around 3pm, and got a quick tour of the residential side of campus. After we dropped off her stuff in my room, we went over to Temple Emanuel where she watched me attempt to control my 6th grade class. Afterwards we went to really nice dinner and finally got to catch up. She leads the kind of life I would love to experience. She just spent the last year or so working at the Teva Learning Center. Next month, she is moving to Rwanda for a year. Yes, Rwanda. She is going with the JDC to volunteer at a boarding school for kids who lost parents in the genocide. What an incredible experience.
And I thought it was a big deal to move to Greensboro...
I've seriously been considering spending a year in Israel. I spend an abnormable amount of time researching every MASA sponsored Israel program, and find a new favorite every other day. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts about spending a year in Israel. How could I function in a country where English isn't the primary language (I know, almost everyone speaks English)? Would I be okay without the familiarity of friends nearby (after thinking about this, I actually think that I know more people in Israel than in Greensboro)? How would I financially support myself?
Something is pulling me in the direction of wanting to go. I'm just afraid of change, which I know is normal. I have a love for Israel, something I knew before I ever even visited. Now I want to explore the complexities of Israel, learn the language, eat the food, and live the history of the Jewish people.
Is it time?

Shabbat...

It's a new academic trimester here at AHA, and that means that I have the opportunity to change some of my responsibilities. For student teaching I am now working with a liturgy class. I originally picked the class because liturgy is something that I am really passionate about, both academically and personally. It is also one of the few places where Jewish and academic life really have the potential to fuse together, and help our students connect to prayer. It really worries me to watch these kids, attending an incredible pluralistic Jewish school, completely unengaged from Jewish life.
I happen to have lucked out. I live and work with the freshman girls house. Everything is new and exciting to these girls. They have such Jewish pride. A few months ago our house was on for toranut (setting up for Shabbat dinner as well as leading dinner blessings and singing) and was amazed at my girls' ruach as they proudly led our community. If I would have let them, they probably would have sung through the whole bencher. I had to limit them to about 5 or so songs.
As a Jewish Life committee, we talk a lot about changing the Shabbat atmosphere. This Shabbat, our house happens to be on Toranut again. We are going to try something new. For Oneg we always have it in a Residential Life members living room. This Shabbat, we are going to encourage some more post-dinner singing. My girls are going to sing their hearts out for as long as they would like. Hopefully, it will help to create the Shabbat atmosphere we all know AHA has the potential to have.
What have you done in your own Shabbat communities to create that camp-like Shabbat atmostphere?

Pluralism

Since going away to school I have become fascinated by the concept of pluralism. What is pluralism? Being involved in NFTY, it never even occured to me that I could gain something from other types of Judaism. I was proud of my Reform Jewish identity, and didn't really feel the need to attempt to understand others. When I arrived at Binghamton, I was looking for meaningful Jewish experiences. Often, I found those through relationships. I surrounded myself with people who were searching for the same. I was lucky enough to learn from people who had the ability to be open-minded enough to see beyond whatever flavor of Judaism they identified with. Many friends, when asked if they identified with one of the major denominations, would describe their Judaism as beyond a label. As I went through college I too began to realize that I don't like labels. That's my problem. If I want to be a Rabbi I feel like I have to pick a denomination.
I've had the discussion many times with many different types of people about what it means to truly be pluralistic. Why is it that our standard is the halachic orthodox standard (or the frummest common denominator?) For some people, like myself, it is uncomfortable to have men lead every aspect of Shabbat blessings (kiddush, motzi, etc.) Here at AHA, and in the other pluralistic communities I have been a part of, we do what will make the most observant sect of the population comfortable. Why is this? In most situations I've been in, the halachically observant Jews are one of the smallest minorities of the group. Is this really pluralistic?
To me, pluralism is seeing Judaism beyond divisions of Judaism, and creating a community that engages and connects as many Jews as possible. Are there limits to pluralism? Absolutely...

Finding my passion

I haven't really felt the strong desire to be involved in Reform programming since I graduated from high school. This past weekend was the URJ Biennial, the Reform Movement's family reunion, which happens every other year. Working in an intense Jewish environment, I have times where I feel burnt out. I definitely could have used a Biennial experience to recharge me, and remind me that I am a part of something bigger. It's very easy to forget that there is a world beyond the green gates. I went to Biennial in Minnesota in high school as a NFTY participant. In college, I went to Houston and San Diego for Biennial. I was very lucky. In college a few special people made it so I could afford to attend. Now that I'm out of college, Biennial is ridiculously expensive. I also couldn't take off that much time from work. It leaves me wondering, how else can I recharge myself? Sometimes, if I just take a step back and breathe I remember what brought me here in the first place. Other times, I just need something more. I love Jewish conferences. I can't go to Biennial, limmud, or staff a NFTY event. It's almost vacation, and I have a feeling that I'm just going to be frustrated that I can't have the Jewish experiences I want while I'm there.
What do you do to keep yourself inspired? I'm open to suggestions...

Lech Lecha

These ideas are a little scattered...I think I might come back and edit this when I'm more awake.

Go forth. In last weeks parsha, God tells Avraham to leave everything he knows. He leaves his home, family, and everything that is familiar to him. Each one of us is like Avraham. How many times have we felt the pull to just go? At only 23 years old, I can already think of several times I've felt the call to leave everything I know; my first summer away at sleep away camp, my decision to go to Binghamton and most recently my decision to come here to Greensboro.

Going away to Binghamton made me into the independent person I am today. My relationships that year and in the years to follow really tested my ability to trust others. I'm well aware that I have a hard time trusting other people. When I say trusting, I mean really trusting someone, and letting them into your life. While in Binghamton, I had a lot of friends, and a really great social circle. However, I chose to only let a few people really get to know me. I wish I could learn to be more open with others.

It's interesting being in a totally new place with a built in social group like AHA. For the most part, we are all really close. At first I thought that it was going to be like camp, and we would all become best friends after the first week on the job. In an intense environment like AHA, personal space and time becomes really important. Maybe that's why we're not as close as I envisioned? Or maybe it's just me? Have I not been open enough to get to know everyone, and let them into my life?

It's a scary thing to trust, and to let others see you for who you are. This journey of life is all about the relationships one has with others. Lech Lecha. Go Forth. May we all find the ability to open up and show our true colors to those we meet along the way.

Wearing a kippah

I've struggled with the question of when to where a kippah for quite some time. It all started when I went to Kutz for a summer. In an enviroment that encouraged ritual experimentation, I embraced the opportunity to try out everything. During the Amidah, I actually took the time to read through all of the blessings that were often skipped over in my synagogue growing up. I began to ask questions about prayer choreography, making sure that everything I did was intential, and something that I found to be meaningful. There was a small minority of female campers/staff who chose to wore a kippah. The times they wore it varied. I started some conversations with them to find out why they do what they do. My first summer on staff I decided to wear a kippah every day. In an environment like Kutz, it is common to see outward displays of Jewish pride. Whether it was a NFTY t-shirt, Jewish star or a Hamsa necklace, symbols of Judaism could be seen everywhere. In the Kutz bubble, I felt free to be who I was. No one (outwardly) judged me, and I felt comfortable expressing myself in that way.

On a day off from camp, my friends and I drove to my house to hang out. I had my kippah on when we left camp, and by that point it was just something else I put on in the morning when I started my day. I walked into my house and realized that I had made a mistake. I watched in horror as my mom insisted that I take my kippah off, embarrassing me in front of my friends, and reminding me that not everyone feels the same way I do about Judaism. I don't know why my parents disliked the kippah. Maybe they thought it was weird? Maybe they had their own negative experiences with more observant Jews who chose to wear kippot? Whatever the reason was, it frustrated me to know that I could not practice Judaism the way I wanted to at home.

I decided to conduct a very short-lived experiment. I wore my kippah to school (I went to a public high school.) I'm not sure if my parents even know about this because I put it on after I left the house. I think it lasted for two days. I got one uncomfortable comment from a teacher, and that was the end of it.

I eventually settled upon just wearing a Kippah on Shabbat and Chagim. For much of a high school when the only thing I "did" to celebrate was go to Temple, I used my Kippah as a physical reminder that today was different.

In an environment like AHA, I've started to reconsider my position on kippah wearing. Some Jewish professionals I know never wear a kippah. Others only wear one when they are "working." Others only wear one when praying. Wearing a kippah definitely sends a message. I'm just not so sure what message I want to be sending right now...

My Mixed Feelings on Halloween as a Jew...

I grew up celebrating Halloween. I spent the weeks before choosing the perfect costume, and spent months after enjoying the candy I got by trick-or-treating. I learned Halloween songs in school, and loved to carve pumpkins. When I got to college, I made friends with a group of very observant Jews. Halloween was just not on their radar. It wasn't something they did at all growing up. October 31st was just another day. While all of my friends didn't do anything for Halloween, my Hillel felt the need to do something Halloween related, since it fell on Shabbat. We attempted to have Halloween themed things, without actually doing anything blatantly Halloween-y. We put Jewish facts about superstitions, ghosts, and magic on Shabbat dinner tables. We had a haunted havdalah in the middle of the Nature Preserve- a wooded area on campus. While this was a Hillel event, it was specifically and intentionally co-sponsored by KESHER and KOACH, Hillel's Reform and Conservative communities on campus. Shammai, Hillel's Orthodox Community declined the invitation to be a co-sponsor. While almost none of the Orthodox Community took part in any of our activites that weekend last Halloween, they were angry. While it didn't last very long, me we (Hillel e-board members) received a lot of backlash for choosing to do any Halloween programming.

Here I am at AHA one year later. I kind of assumed that being part of a Pluralistic Jewish Community like AHA would mean that Halloween really wouldn't be an issue. We are a Jewish school, so why do anything about Halloween? It just so happens that one of the co-deans of Jewish Life LOVES Halloween. He has been talking about it for months. I have to admit, his ideas are pretty cool. He's shared a lot of crazy information with me about Judaism and the supernatural.

I was asked to compile a Haunted Havdalah Service. While I am not thrilled by the idea of helping to create Halloween programming on campus, I am fascinated by all of the creepy (and sometimes scary) aspects of Judaism that aren't so familiar.

The readings between the Havdalah blessings are:
(Taken from J. Trachtenberg’s Jewish Magic and Superstition)
To be said out loud at the beginning of Havdalah:
It has been said that magical charms were best recited during or immediately following the Havdalah ceremony. The Talmud specifies Tuesday and Friday nights (and later the end of Shabbat, Havdalah) was also added, as the time when the demons were most to be feared. Psalm 91 (the anti-demonic psalm), was used as a form of protection.
After first paragraph/Before the Wine Blessing:
On Saturday evening, wine was often offered to the spirits, as part of a larger ritual. Some of the wine was poured on the ground “as a good omen for the entire week, to symbolize good fortune and blessing.” The Geonim decided that this was not respectable when they included it among a list of superstitious practices.
After the Wine/Before the Fire:
There is a custom of looking at your nails during the blessing over the fire. It is suggested that this custom may be connected with the frequent evocation of the “princes of the nail.” The late practice of enclosing the thumb within the other fingers during this may have been influenced by the belief that the “princes” inhabit the thumbnail, since this nail was most often used in divination, so that finger should be hidden from view. It has also been suggested that the ritual of examining ones finger nails by the light of the Havdalah candle exists because the wise man can read in our hands the fate and the good fortune which is about to befall us.
After the Fire/Before the Spices:
When Shabbat is over the fires of Gehinnom are rekindled and give off a fearful stench. We smell the spices so that they may protect us from the foul odor of Hell. Another explanation of spices is that they strengthened the body against the departure of the “additional soul” which inhabited it on Shabbat.

Crazy stuff, right? While I will not choose to attend a minyan alternative text study about ghosts and witches in the book of Samuel, I am looking forward to Havdalah of Horror and making candy apples!

Tracy Fisher

Kutz Camp Bayit 1 2006

(Tracy is on the right in the black shirt with the big smile.)

I received word a few nights ago that one of my former campers had died. At 18 years old, Tracy Fisher collapsed as a result of a blood clot that had traveled to from her leg to her lungs. This is the second time this year that a young person from the Kutz community has been lost. Kids aren't supposed to die. My campers are supposed to go on from high school, to college, and become adults. Tracy was having the time of her life at Missouri, taking advantage of every opportunity.

As soon as I heard the news, memories from that summer flooded my head. It was my first summer as an RA. I had the youngest cabin- B1 babies, as we affectionately called them. There was Matilda, one of my campers alter egos, Mushu, from one of the most memorable programs that summer, check in-check out with a giant fake phone...the list could go on forever.

Tracy was always smiling and laughing. She was in an elective I taught that summer where we learned songs from the NFTY bencher. Most kids took the class because they wanted to learn all of the songs they didn't know, that everyone else at camp already seemed to know. Tracy was the exception. She chose to take the class because she knew ALL of the songs with the hand motions to go with them. She could always be counted on to take the lead and be enthusiastic about anything. She had such passion for everything about camp, including plotting ways to sneak out of the cabin. Scheming with the other campers late at night, I would hear giggles and shushing as I walked around the cabin checking to see that everyone was where they should be. Towards the end of camp, she even managed to spark a campwide search when I couldn't find her in her bed. It turns out she was in another girls bed the whole time! I loved those girls like my own children, and feel honored that they have chosen to stay in touch with me. It has been an amazing thing to watch these girls grow up, from young high schoolers to young adults in college.

Bayit 1 formed a special community that summer. When news of Tracy's death began to circulate through facebook and e-mail, we were all reminded of that tight knit bunk we all spent a summer in. Pictures, stories, and love for each other and Tracy could be felt despite the fact that we were separated by states and even countries. I hope that the memories of Tracy from that summer and beyond keep us all smiling and laughing, just as she would have wanted.

Zichrona Livracha-May Tracy's memory be for a blessing...

My perfect Jewish community...

A few summers back I spent two weeks shadowing my congregational Rabbi. Okay, that's kind of a lie. He's not my congregational Rabbi. He's the Rabbi of the synagogue that my old synagogue merged with. My family never rejoined a synagogue, so I don't really belong anywhere. When I'm home, I spend Shabbat at that synagogue.
Anyway, this internship was a real eye-opening experience on many levels. The Rabbi got permission to have me watch him conduct a counseling session. I also got to go on a hospital visit, help lead services, sit in on meetings, and more. While I definitely learned a lot by watching my Rabbi go about his daily tasks, what really stands out in my mind was lunch time. Every day we had lunch together. It was my chance to pick his brain and ask him anything I wanted. It was also his chance to ask me whatever he wanted to.
I remember complaining to him about Hillel. The summer of my internship was the summer after my first semester at Binghamton. I was annoyed with the Reform community situation on my campus. I was annoyed that I was expected to be a campus leader before I even had the chance to become acclimated to campus. I talked about my fear of hospitals, how I worried that HUC was going to be too academically challenging for me.
One of the most thought-provoking conversations we had during those two weeks was about community. He asked me what my ideal Jewish community would look like. What a question! Since that summer, my answer certainly has changed. I want to lead a community of learned Jews who value pluralism and embrace one anothers differences. I want to be challenged and challenge others. I want a community that cares deeply about each other, their relationships with each other and with God. I envision intergenerational learning that begins in the home and continues in the synagogue. I want to create prayer experiences that connect people to Judaism, and inspires them to go beyond the synagogue walls and change the world.
I just hope that regardless of what flavor of Judaism I choose, or where I end up working, I hope that I never lose sight of my dream Jewish community. For now, I think I'll just enjoy living in a Jewish plurastic community, and learning all that I can from our mistakes and successes...

The Conservative Yeshiva summer essay

Compose a 1 to 2 page essay (double-spaced) discussing your religious background, your involvement in the Jewish community, why you want to study at the Conservative Yeshiva and your goals.
I am a product of the Reform Movement. As a high school student I took pride in my Reform upbringing, becoming an active member of my synagogue, NFTY, HUC-JIR Miller High School Honors program, and spent a life changing summer at the URJ Kutz Camp.
I transferred to Binghamton from a community college excited to be a part of a new Jewish community. My first Shabbat on campus was spent with a Hillel staff member, who happened to be my friend from camp. After such a warm introduction to Jewish life at Binghamton, I eagerly anticipated my first Hillel Shabbat experience on campus. I walked into the Reform Minyan that first Friday night, and found six other students sitting in a circle. The service leader mumbled through some prayers, attempting to get through the service as quickly as possible.
Dinner with the rest of the Hillel community afterwards felt a little more welcoming. Comforted by the familiarity of Jewish ritual, I relaxed as a student leader announced the page for Kiddush. As I waited for the familiar prayer I quickly became confused. What were they saying? I know the Kiddush, and this wasn’t it. As we concluded the meal and began singing, I again became uncomfortable. I wondered why we were using a Conservative bencher in a pluralistic setting. Why couldn’t we use the Reform ones?
The next morning my apartment mate and I trekked down the hill to Hillel’s Conservative Minyan. I had never been to anything but a Reform service. The unfamiliar siddur and new tunes intrigued me. I found myself going back week after week even without the security of my roommate, excited to learn more about a flavor of Judaism I was not accustomed to. After getting to know some of the regular Conservative Minyan-goers, I became more interested in understanding what it meant to be an observant Jew. As a Reform Jew, I felt observant. In a Conservative community, for the first time in my life, I felt like there was a whole world for me just waiting to be discovered.
When I returned to campus for my junior year of high school, I was greeted by two new (married) Hillel staff members- Shana Kantor (Director), and Rabbi Shalom Kantor (Hillel at Binghamton’s first ever liberal campus Rabbi.) This was the beginning of one of my most important relationships thus far in my Jewish journey. Rabbi Kantor was hired as the KOACH-Hillel Rabbi, expected to cater to all streams of Judaism, while focusing on the Conservative population at the same time. By the time Rabbi Kantor came to campus I had been appointed chair of KESHER, the Reform Jewish group on campus. This meant that Rabbi Kantor was my advisor. We met weekly. Most of our time was spent disagreeing with each other. Here was this new, young, Conservative Rabbi trying to tell me what the Reform community on campus needed. What did he know? Eventually, we found some middle ground and began to work together. I had found an incredible mentor.
We spent the next two years attempting to build up the Reform community on campus. Unsatisfied with the options I had as a Reform Jew on campus, I began to search elsewhere with Shalom as my guide. He made every aspect of my Hillel experience a learning experience. We spent hours over the next year studying halacha, liturgy, and talking about where I fit in along the Jewish spectrum.
After college I moved to Greensboro, NC to begin a Fellowship at the American Hebrew Academy (AHA), the nation’s only Jewish Pluralistic College-prep Boarding School. I am given the opportunity to mentor teens, create Jewish programming, and continue to study the subjects of my choosing. The pluralistic atmospheres both at AHA and Binghamton have afforded me the opportunity to continue to explore my Jewish identity.
Since I was a young girl, my dream has been to become a Rabbi. I had always assumed that I would attend HUC-JIR just because that’s what you do as a committed Reform Jew. After meeting Rabbi Kantor, I’ve begun to explore all different forms of Judaism. I have realized that I lack many of the text skills and ritual understanding of a more observant lifestyle, something that I hope to learn by attending the Conservative Yeshiva.

The URJ's newest summer camp is coming to AHA!

http://urj.org/about/union/pr/2009/?syspage=article&item_id=25100

I am SO excited for this camp to open up at AHA!

I remember summers in middle school attending Mel Davis' basketball camp. The intense athletic atmosphere was incredible.

When I was a kid I would have jumped at the chance to go to a camp like this and combine 3 of my passions- sports, judaism, and summer camp!

I have to disagree with me friend David- I think that this idea for a camp is awesome! I hope that I am able to be a part of it, and watch it grow and thrive...

Jewish Identity...or what can I do to ensure the future of the Jewish people?

Maybe it's because I've spent the last 10 years involved with programming that builds Jewish identy, but it seems like Jewish identity is just something assumed here. For such a Jewish place, I found it interesting that the Jewish conversations I had in high school are not happening here at AHA...yet.

I went to a public high school. I lived in an area that has a large Jewish population. I grew up in a very grassroots synagogue, working hard to build up a tiny youth group. I went to Kutz where the Jewish possibilities were endless, and my wildest dreams were shared by a community. In NFTY I found other peers who cared about the same social justice causes I did. I felt like the coolest kid in the world when I was selected to spend every other Sunday studying with other teens in NYC at HUC's Miller HS Honors program. I just couldn't get enough of Judaism. My whole world was Jewish...but how do I have parts of my life where I can't practice my Judaism in a way that is meaningful to me?

Maybe because although it may have seemed like I was breathing Judaism 24/7, I really wasn't. The things I learned and valued as a result of intense Jewish experiences made me a very observant Jew always searching for more, something my family was not. While I of course wish that my family shared my enthusiasm, I'm finally at the point where I'm okay with it. I lived for camp-style Shabbat, spirited birkat hamazon, song sessions, and spending afternoons outside a tree talking to my favorite Jewish professionals about God, Judaism, and my role in the world.

The way I was raised really makes me question Jewish Educators. How do we fix the disconnect? We can teach the kiddush, motzi, etc. If these kids aren't given the opportunity to have Shabbat dinners with their families, then what is the point? We can use camp as a Jewish utopia, introducing kids to Shabbat. Make Torah real- study it, wrestle with it, question it.

I admit it, I'm strange. I somehow grew to be a passionate Jewish adult, even though I feel like my most influential Jewish experiences came from outside of the home. I remember the time when my brother decided to quit Hebrew School in 7th grade after his bar mitzvah. Like most parents of kids in my brothers grades, they let him quit. Why is this ok?

My brother doesn't know what it's like to sit around a Shabbat table, receive a childrens blessing, taste the sweet wine, challah, and enjoy others company. He has never been moved by a service, inspired by a Rabbi, or felt the need to keep studying. He went off to college with no interest in finding a Jewish community. Will he raise Jewish children?

How do we as Jewish educators keep kids, parents, families engaged?

I believe that enthusiasm breeds enthusiasm, but sometimes that's just not enough...

What's next?

I'm starting to feel the pressure to figure out my next move in life.
A lot of the fellows here seem to have it figured out- either applying to grad school or hope to be asked to stay at AHA for another year.
I've been saying that I'm not ready to apply to rabbinical school yet. How do I know when I'm ready? In terms of logistics, I'm going to need a year before rabbinical to learn Hebrew in Israel, and I need the financial security to do so. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually- how do I know when the time is right?
When I finally determine that I am ready to apply, where am I going?
HUC? Zeigler? RRC? Hebrew College?
I don't know how to figure out what flavor of Judaism fits me best. What kind of Rabbi do I want to be? If I decide that I want to be a congregational Rabbi I think that I really do need to pick one type of Judaism...
If I want to work for Hillel, I think that Hebrew College might be a good choice.
Do I want to also get a Master's degree in Jewish Education? Social work? Informal education? Special education?
How am I supposed to choose just one or two things??
How will I know when the time is right?

One thing I know for sure- I want to help others on their Jewish Journey
What's the next step in MY Jewish Journey?