Do you ever wonder what your purpose in life is?
This vacation was awful for a number of reasons. At the beginning of break word spread that two high school seniors from my town were killed in a car accident. At the end of break there was more news of another sudden death of someone who was just a year younger than me from the area. What is going on?! So much of the news coverage reminded me of when Emily died. So many unanswered questions. Candle light vigils, memorials at sporting events- it was all too familiar. I limited my TV watching and newspaper reading this vacation- stories of these young kids were everywhere.
I think I know what I am supposed to be doing with my life- or at least what I want to be doing. I want to help other people. I want to be that person that other people turn to when they need someone. I want to build communities, fight for justice, and work towards peace.
I've felt very conflicted these last two weeks in NY. I keep searching and searching. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I'm not even sure what brings me back to NY. I think I'm ready to say goodbye for a while.
Back to North Carolina tomorrow...looking forward to reconnecting with my girls, as well as my friends...and remembering what my purpose is.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
My summer...
I debated about what to do this summer for a while. At first, I wanted to go to Israel and study, but then my bank account gave me a reality check. Then, I thought that I wanted to apply to be the Director of Jewish Life at the new URJ sports camp opening at AHA. The process was going to take longer than I could wait, and once it seemed like I was going to be an AHA fellow for a second year, I wanted my vacation to be off campus. Then, I found the Brandeis Collegiate Institute (http://bci.ajula.edu/)- a highly subsidized three week retreat for Jewish adults to explore their Judaism through the arts in a pluralistic setting. Did I mention that it is in California?! The program is for people ages 18-26, so I knew that if I didn't do this now, I probably never would. As I started to explore the program I learned that several people involved with AHA worked and/or attended BCI at some point. A few weeks after I applied, I learned that I was accepted! I'm very excited to be a part of a pluralistic community and hopefully translate what I experience there back to my work at AHA next year.
I have one friend from Binghamton who has also been accepted, and I know two of the people on faculty. I'm looking forward to being able to share this experience with people from different parts of my life before AHA, and hopefully meet a lot more new people to learn from and grow with.
To clarify, I am not artistic. I can't draw, act, or dance. I also am not the type to embrace the great outdoors. All things I'll be expected to do this summer.
It will be good for me to do something a little out of my comfort zone...
I have one friend from Binghamton who has also been accepted, and I know two of the people on faculty. I'm looking forward to being able to share this experience with people from different parts of my life before AHA, and hopefully meet a lot more new people to learn from and grow with.
To clarify, I am not artistic. I can't draw, act, or dance. I also am not the type to embrace the great outdoors. All things I'll be expected to do this summer.
It will be good for me to do something a little out of my comfort zone...
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Laser Pointers, Powerpoints and Shabbat
I am often asked why I do certain things as a Jew. Most people who have known me for a while assume that I am a Reform Jew, and are confused when I say things like 'I can't go out until after Shabbat is over', or, 'I prefer more traditional liturgy.'
I am shomer shabbat. I am not shomer shabbat out of the feeling that I am obligated to do so. I am shomer shabbat for many different reasons. I started to explore a more traditional way of observing Judaism when I transferred to Binghamton and got to know the Hillel Rabbi and his family. He was one of the first people I got to know who was deeply connected to Jewish tradition and practice, but was totally connected to the outside world. I had lived a very sheltered Reform Jewish life up until that point. Little did I know that my involvement with the Binghamton Jewish community would lead me to make friends with Jews from all walks of life. My closest friends identified as Conservative, Orthodox, Zionist, Jewish without a label, etc. I found myself a part of a shomer shabbat community, and loved it. I looked forward to the quiet and relaxation each week. I began to experiment with certain things on Shabbat. At first, I stopped doing homework on Shabbat. Then, I stopped using my computer on Shabbat. Next, I stopped using my phone and watching TV. There was something refreshing about disconnecting from the outside world. I had a whole day set aside for prayer, sleep, and friends. This eventually led me to choose to live with 3 other observant girls for my senior year of college, making the active choice to commit to an observant lifestyle.
The Jewish choices I have made over the years have made my life more meaningful. I haven't had many people or situations challenge my choices, until I come home. I don't come from an observant home. I am not part of an observant community. I am fine with living with people who choose to observe Shabbat in a different way (I have lived in a pluralistic house at AHA since August and have done just fine.) It is clear, however, that my family is uncomfortable with how I live my life.. The idea of doing anything for Shabbat is so off their radar. To them, what I do is crazy and to the extreme. What they don't see is that, for the past 4 years, I have found communities that encourage my exploration of Judaism and my choices to live a more observant lifestyle. I am not the only one doing this. I am not as alien as they think of them.
The use of technology on Shabbat has started to make me really uncomfortable. At one point a few summers ago I experienced a powerpoint Shabbat service done by Rabbi Billy Dreskin. At the time, I thought it was really interesting. Looking back on it now, I don't necessarily think that I loved the idea of using a powerpoint, but I did love his creativity and ability to think outside the box. He knew that for so many people, services as they are just aren't enough. I admire his desire to try and engage as many people as possible in prayer.
This past Shabbat I went to my "home" synagogue in NJ. We read Torah on Friday nights. To many, that's a foreign concept in itself. I always grew up doing this way, so it seems pretty normal to me. I really don't like the services there, but I happen to really like the Rabbi and the familiarity of seeing people from my old congregation...so I keep going back. It's really interesting to see the similarities between this synagogue and the Reform synagogue that I work for in Greensboro. Both synagogues strive to be warm and friendly synagogues. Both Rabbis have camp backgrounds. Yet, when it comes to services, so much of the service is not participatory, although it seems like that is what is intended. For both synagogues, so much of the service is the cantor or cantorial soloist singing by himself. I don't like it when people are watching one person pray. I like to do the praying myself! Okay, done with that rant.
Back to this past Friday night in my synagogue. During the Torah service the rabbinical student leading pulled out a laser pointer to read Torah on the projected Torah page on the wall. They took the Torah out but didn't actually read from it. I get that they were trying to make it accessible to everyone. I get that for some people, the technology is really exciting. For me, I just want to hear the Torah being read...from the Torah.
These next 16 days of vacation are supposed to re energize me for the remainder of AHA's school year. I am already looking forward to returning...
I am shomer shabbat. I am not shomer shabbat out of the feeling that I am obligated to do so. I am shomer shabbat for many different reasons. I started to explore a more traditional way of observing Judaism when I transferred to Binghamton and got to know the Hillel Rabbi and his family. He was one of the first people I got to know who was deeply connected to Jewish tradition and practice, but was totally connected to the outside world. I had lived a very sheltered Reform Jewish life up until that point. Little did I know that my involvement with the Binghamton Jewish community would lead me to make friends with Jews from all walks of life. My closest friends identified as Conservative, Orthodox, Zionist, Jewish without a label, etc. I found myself a part of a shomer shabbat community, and loved it. I looked forward to the quiet and relaxation each week. I began to experiment with certain things on Shabbat. At first, I stopped doing homework on Shabbat. Then, I stopped using my computer on Shabbat. Next, I stopped using my phone and watching TV. There was something refreshing about disconnecting from the outside world. I had a whole day set aside for prayer, sleep, and friends. This eventually led me to choose to live with 3 other observant girls for my senior year of college, making the active choice to commit to an observant lifestyle.
The Jewish choices I have made over the years have made my life more meaningful. I haven't had many people or situations challenge my choices, until I come home. I don't come from an observant home. I am not part of an observant community. I am fine with living with people who choose to observe Shabbat in a different way (I have lived in a pluralistic house at AHA since August and have done just fine.) It is clear, however, that my family is uncomfortable with how I live my life.. The idea of doing anything for Shabbat is so off their radar. To them, what I do is crazy and to the extreme. What they don't see is that, for the past 4 years, I have found communities that encourage my exploration of Judaism and my choices to live a more observant lifestyle. I am not the only one doing this. I am not as alien as they think of them.
The use of technology on Shabbat has started to make me really uncomfortable. At one point a few summers ago I experienced a powerpoint Shabbat service done by Rabbi Billy Dreskin. At the time, I thought it was really interesting. Looking back on it now, I don't necessarily think that I loved the idea of using a powerpoint, but I did love his creativity and ability to think outside the box. He knew that for so many people, services as they are just aren't enough. I admire his desire to try and engage as many people as possible in prayer.
This past Shabbat I went to my "home" synagogue in NJ. We read Torah on Friday nights. To many, that's a foreign concept in itself. I always grew up doing this way, so it seems pretty normal to me. I really don't like the services there, but I happen to really like the Rabbi and the familiarity of seeing people from my old congregation...so I keep going back. It's really interesting to see the similarities between this synagogue and the Reform synagogue that I work for in Greensboro. Both synagogues strive to be warm and friendly synagogues. Both Rabbis have camp backgrounds. Yet, when it comes to services, so much of the service is not participatory, although it seems like that is what is intended. For both synagogues, so much of the service is the cantor or cantorial soloist singing by himself. I don't like it when people are watching one person pray. I like to do the praying myself! Okay, done with that rant.
Back to this past Friday night in my synagogue. During the Torah service the rabbinical student leading pulled out a laser pointer to read Torah on the projected Torah page on the wall. They took the Torah out but didn't actually read from it. I get that they were trying to make it accessible to everyone. I get that for some people, the technology is really exciting. For me, I just want to hear the Torah being read...from the Torah.
These next 16 days of vacation are supposed to re energize me for the remainder of AHA's school year. I am already looking forward to returning...
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
On Loss and Faith
This weekend marks the first yartzeit of Jonah Dreskin, an integral part of the Kutz community. I met Jonah's parents at Kutz before I really had the chance to get to know Jonah himself. Jonah's parents are the kind of people who, for me, scream Kutz. They are innovative, passionate people alway available to serve the communities they are a part of. My heart broke when I heard the news of Jonah's death. His parents are the type of people who I would feel comfortable turning to in a time like this. What happens when those people are the ones who need support the most? I often wonder, as an aspiring Rabbi, how one balances personal challenges in a public role.
I clearly remember sitting in the Hillel office about a year ago, and seeing an e-mail from Kutz in my inbox. I figured an e-mail announcing the death of someone from the community would mean perhaps an elderly alum had died. I scanned the e-mail, shocked to read Jonah's name. I first met Jonah when I was working at Kutz in the winter and he was participating in a NFTY-NAR event. Always the one everyone looked up to, Jonah really found his place in NFTY. I watched him transform from that young NFTYite to a confident Kutz staff member. During my last summer at Kutz, there was a time during staff week when the dining hall manager became sick, and I was asked to step in and keep the dining hall running. Jonah was working as kitchen staff, and finding it challenging to work with a particular co-worker. At one point, a screaming match erupted. Instead of engaging in a fight, Jonah approached me for help. His maturity and genuine desire to just do his job well was extremely impressive.
When news traveled that Jonah had died, I felt so far away from the rest of my camp community. Kutz had a sort of mini memorial service via conference call before Shabbat came in that weekend. I sat alone in the Hillel lounge, listening to familiar camp voices on the conference call, crying and full of questions. Following the conference call I attended KESHER services at my Hillel. Several students who knew Jonah at different points in his life attended the service. We spent some time sharing memories, and finding some comfort in each others company. While we all knew Jonah from different places, we each had those same bits of Jonah memories to make us smile (and cry.) I couldn't help but start asking questions, during that service and so many times more in this past year. Why do young people die? Why would God let something like this happen? Weeks following, I sat up late at night wondering if Jonah was okay, wherever his soul was now.
As the days, weeks, and months passed, stories of Jonah floated across cyberspace. It is incredible to watch Jonah's memory stay alive so strongly. Pictures, videos, music, and stories keep Jonah's spirit with us. I hope that Jonah's close friends and family are comforted by memories and love that surrounds them. He has left me with the desire to make the people most important in my life know just how important they are to me. The Kutz community is near and dear to my heart, and a loss like this leaves makes such an impact on each and every one of us.
This weekend also happens to be the yartzeit of my Mom's best friend. She had a two sons, and and a deceased stepdaughter and deceased husband. So much death in such a short time to one family. I used to to firmly believe that everything happened for a reason. My Mom's best friends family was like our extended family. We used to spend a lot of holidays together, and I have fond memories of Passover seders where her husband designed a personalized seder, managing to incorporate everyone and their personalities into the meal. There is no way that this was meant to be. So much sickness and pain for one family- I just can't believe that this was God's plan. Does that mean that God wasn't there? God didn't care?
These loses in my life have really changed my view on God, and my relationship to God. I don't believe that God chooses who lives and who dies. I do, however, think that God provides the love, support, tools, and community one needs to learn how to live, grow, and honor the memory of their loved ones.
May Jonah and Amy's memories be for a blessing.
I clearly remember sitting in the Hillel office about a year ago, and seeing an e-mail from Kutz in my inbox. I figured an e-mail announcing the death of someone from the community would mean perhaps an elderly alum had died. I scanned the e-mail, shocked to read Jonah's name. I first met Jonah when I was working at Kutz in the winter and he was participating in a NFTY-NAR event. Always the one everyone looked up to, Jonah really found his place in NFTY. I watched him transform from that young NFTYite to a confident Kutz staff member. During my last summer at Kutz, there was a time during staff week when the dining hall manager became sick, and I was asked to step in and keep the dining hall running. Jonah was working as kitchen staff, and finding it challenging to work with a particular co-worker. At one point, a screaming match erupted. Instead of engaging in a fight, Jonah approached me for help. His maturity and genuine desire to just do his job well was extremely impressive.
When news traveled that Jonah had died, I felt so far away from the rest of my camp community. Kutz had a sort of mini memorial service via conference call before Shabbat came in that weekend. I sat alone in the Hillel lounge, listening to familiar camp voices on the conference call, crying and full of questions. Following the conference call I attended KESHER services at my Hillel. Several students who knew Jonah at different points in his life attended the service. We spent some time sharing memories, and finding some comfort in each others company. While we all knew Jonah from different places, we each had those same bits of Jonah memories to make us smile (and cry.) I couldn't help but start asking questions, during that service and so many times more in this past year. Why do young people die? Why would God let something like this happen? Weeks following, I sat up late at night wondering if Jonah was okay, wherever his soul was now.
As the days, weeks, and months passed, stories of Jonah floated across cyberspace. It is incredible to watch Jonah's memory stay alive so strongly. Pictures, videos, music, and stories keep Jonah's spirit with us. I hope that Jonah's close friends and family are comforted by memories and love that surrounds them. He has left me with the desire to make the people most important in my life know just how important they are to me. The Kutz community is near and dear to my heart, and a loss like this leaves makes such an impact on each and every one of us.
This weekend also happens to be the yartzeit of my Mom's best friend. She had a two sons, and and a deceased stepdaughter and deceased husband. So much death in such a short time to one family. I used to to firmly believe that everything happened for a reason. My Mom's best friends family was like our extended family. We used to spend a lot of holidays together, and I have fond memories of Passover seders where her husband designed a personalized seder, managing to incorporate everyone and their personalities into the meal. There is no way that this was meant to be. So much sickness and pain for one family- I just can't believe that this was God's plan. Does that mean that God wasn't there? God didn't care?
These loses in my life have really changed my view on God, and my relationship to God. I don't believe that God chooses who lives and who dies. I do, however, think that God provides the love, support, tools, and community one needs to learn how to live, grow, and honor the memory of their loved ones.
May Jonah and Amy's memories be for a blessing.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A New Denomination?
After this next week, we will be in AHA's final academic trimester of the year. I've done so much, and it's only been 7 months. I co-run the Rosh Hodesh group, connected with each girl in my house (and love every day with them!), fell in love with a new group of friends- the fellows, gained new wonderful mentors that keep me inspired to keep growing and learning, led both reform and conservative services, learned enough to be a tutor for conservative style synagogue skills, created and led full lessons on liturgy, and the list goes on and on....
I'm trying really hard to make sure that I'm getting as much out of this fellowship experience as I can. During the first trimester I studied with a faculty member to learn how to lead Conservative davening. This semester I've been learned Torah trope, and, after next week, I will have had the experience of reading Megillah. While I don't need to be attending things like study sessions, I always feel like I learn something new about the
Today for a Shabbat minyan alternative we did a text study based on an article recently published in Haaretz about Haredi and Secular Judaism. Our discussion eventually led us to talk about my favorite topic- pluralism. Specifically, what does Pluralism mean here at AHA? Could a Haredi Jew be welcomed at AHA?A proponent of Judaism beyond denominations, the leader of the discussion suggested that eventually, he imagines, people will begin to identify as 'pluralistic,' just like one identifies as Reform, Conservative, etc. But really, what does that mean? How does on identify as pluralistic? I imagine that this could one day be the direction that AHA heads in. Students would graduate from AHA as pluralistic Jews. What would they be like?
How do you teach Pluralism? Is living and coexisting with Jews different from yourself enough? Can you have Judaism without different denominations?
Here's to hoping that the next month before pesach break brings new challenges and a chance for me to get re-energized!
Shavua Tov :)
I'm trying really hard to make sure that I'm getting as much out of this fellowship experience as I can. During the first trimester I studied with a faculty member to learn how to lead Conservative davening. This semester I've been learned Torah trope, and, after next week, I will have had the experience of reading Megillah. While I don't need to be attending things like study sessions, I always feel like I learn something new about the
Today for a Shabbat minyan alternative we did a text study based on an article recently published in Haaretz about Haredi and Secular Judaism. Our discussion eventually led us to talk about my favorite topic- pluralism. Specifically, what does Pluralism mean here at AHA? Could a Haredi Jew be welcomed at AHA?A proponent of Judaism beyond denominations, the leader of the discussion suggested that eventually, he imagines, people will begin to identify as 'pluralistic,' just like one identifies as Reform, Conservative, etc. But really, what does that mean? How does on identify as pluralistic? I imagine that this could one day be the direction that AHA heads in. Students would graduate from AHA as pluralistic Jews. What would they be like?
How do you teach Pluralism? Is living and coexisting with Jews different from yourself enough? Can you have Judaism without different denominations?
Here's to hoping that the next month before pesach break brings new challenges and a chance for me to get re-energized!
Shavua Tov :)
Sunday, January 31, 2010
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...
Sunday, January 24, 2010
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...
Thursday, December 31, 2009
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
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.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
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...
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...
Thursday, December 10, 2009
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?
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?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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...
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...
Monday, November 9, 2009
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...
What do you do to keep yourself inspired? I'm open to suggestions...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, October 30, 2009
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...
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...
Thursday, October 29, 2009
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!
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!
Friday, October 23, 2009
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...
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