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News: March 2004

Kids “live” Jewish at summer camp

By Rabbi Ed Feinstein

(Reprinted with permission from the Los Angeles Jewish Journal)

This summer, thousands of youngsters will depart the comforts of home and family to share the experience of Jewish summer camps. A month or so from now, those same kids will tumble off buses, sleepy and soiled and transformed. They will take home crafts, new friends and a profound sense of having touched the core of Jewish life.

They will bear vivid memories of Friday night sunsets, Havdalah beneath the stars, new Hebrew songs and a sense of belonging. They will learn little about Judaism. They will have lived Judaism personally and intensely.

Centuries from now, when the definitive history of American Judaism is written, scholars will note the contribution of synagogues and seminaries to American Jewish life. But they will single out the summer camp as the most unique American Jewish institution. No institution changes young lives as powerfully as does camp. No other institution offers the chance to come so close to the core of holiness and feel the joy of carrying Judaism oneself — bakatef yesau.

The Midrash connects our verse with another, Psalms 81:3, siu zimrah, “Take up the song! Sound the timbrel, the melodious lyre and harp!”
Carrying the Ark upon their shoulders gave the Levites the power to sing. This is true of every person who serves God, concludes the sefat emet (language of truth). True service fills a person with light and with joy.

And so, too, our kids. Returning from camp, they evince a thirst for Jewish learning and a new joy in Jewish living. Having touched the core of holiness, they take up an ancient song. Do yourself a favor this summer — you who are tired of the depressing pessimism that attends so much Jewish life — go and visit a Jewish summer camp and breathe in its joyful spirit.

Years ago, I staffed a Jewish summer camp. Each summer we opened the camp for a visitors’ day, which was inevitably the hottest day of the summer. Late in the afternoon on one visitors’ day, I trudged back to my cabin for a cold drink. On the way, I encountered an elderly man, sitting alone and obviously upset. I stopped to see if I could help him, but he waved me away.

“Can I help you find your family?
“Leave me alone, young man, I’m fine.”
“How about a cold drink?”
“I’m fine, don’t bother.”
“Well, you’re obviously upset, so let me sit with you,” I persisted.
We sat a few moments, and finally he turned to me and I saw the tears in his eyes.
“I’m a survivor. Do you know what that means?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m a survivor, and an old man, and I didn’t want to shlep up here today. But my daughter made me come because my granddaughter is here. She’s one of your campers. When I left Europe, years ago, I never thought I’d ever see Jewish children happy again. How can Jewish children be happy, being Jewish, after what Hitler did? But I look here and I see young people dancing, singing, with yarmulkes, speaking Hebrew. Young man, you, your friends, this place has given me back something Hitler took away.”

In tears, the two of us sat on the bench together.

Ed Feinstein is rabbi of Valley Beth Shalom in Encino.

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