What Might Have Been
July 16, 2012 
10 Comments
Reading Rabbi Josh Strom’s recent blog post about the URJ’s Camp Harlam Institute for Living Judaism made me mad.
No, I’m not mad at Rabbi Strom. I’m mad at the longtime rabbi of the congregation in which I grew up — where I was consecrated, became bat mitzvah, and was confirmed and married — and where my father is still a member and regular worshipper.
Although I’m quite sure his actions (or perhaps more properly, his inactions) weren’t intentional, this rabbi chose not to engage at all with the Union, the CCAR or the College-Institute or to share the vast riches of the Reform Movement with his members and their families during the 38 years he led the congregation. Had this now-retired rabbi done so, I and two generations of other kids from “my temple” might have had the same meaningful, powerful and transformative Reform Jewish camp experiences that so crucially shaped the lives of many of my friends and colleagues.
Like them, I would have lifelong camp friends who, despite knowing all my flaws and foibles, still love me.
Like them, I would know the Hebrew names of places and activities.
Like them, I would know birkat ha-mazon from memory (complete with table-banging in all the right places).
Like them, I would have studied Torah from a young age, absorbing its values and traditions, and, early on, incorporating them into my life in a meaningful, Reform way.
Like them, for four weeks each summer, Jewish identity and pride would have permeated every aspect of my life, becoming part of my very being.
No, I wasn’t blessed with a Jewish camp experience, but I am fortunate that in spite of this omission, the person I’ve become — and continue to become — has learned to live Jewishly, a gift that transforms, strengthens and enriches me each and every day.
As I read daily on this blog of others’ camp experiences, I can’t help but wonder though, what might have been if I had been a camper just like them…
I too was denied the experience of attending URJ camps as a child. Because the Union wouldn’t accept our synagogue into membership. It was only after many, MANY years that our shul was warmly welcomed and the children of the congregation were sent to the local URJ camp. It may be that there were things going on behind-the-scenes that prevented an affiliation at the time you would have gone to camp.
In the meantime, you’ve grown into an amazing “Jew in the Pew” and our Movement is fortunate to have you!!!
Thanks, Rebecca. And you, my friend, are an amazing rabbi, among other things!
Jane, I too frequently wonder what it would have been like if I had been a URJ camper and for many years, especially since the advent of the URJ’s wonderful use of social media, I can’t help but feel that I missed out on something really special – that shorthand, whether it be musical, liturgical, or Judaical – that connects people across time and distance. That being said, as the wise author Tom Robbins wrote, it is never too late to have a happy childhood. Does the URJ have any plans to create “grownup” summer camp experiences for those of us who missed out? One might even imagine the Kallah and the training sessions re-imagined through the URJ camp lens! I know I’d sign up for sure. Who’s with me?
I’m with you, Andi! I’ve often heard kallah described as “summer camp for adults.”
Jane, wow and thank you. Y’can add me to the list, too.
Never mind a Reform congregation where the rabbi was just disengaged from the movement, I was raised Conservadox in a place and time where relevance, dynamism and fun weren’t even considered. The only ‘zetsing’ on desks happened when cranky afternoon ‘Hebrew school’ teachers yelled “You have to know this!” as they quietly counted the minutes ’til they could return to their comfortable ghettos in Brooklyn.
I found Reform in my early 20s. I’m pretty sure if I had grown up in “the family” and attended URJ camp, my life would be completely different now, better, maybe I’d even be taller.
Of course it is only natural to wish one had not “missed out” on youth programming involving opportunities for friendship and bonding, life-transforming study of Torah, and all the fun aspects of camp.
However, you seem to have done just fine without it, and seem to have become a deeply Jewishly committed individual with nothing to apologize for or be ashamed of! In fact, in my opinion, you might even be better off for not having been steeped in the culture of “let’s use the modern Hebrew name for every object” or the whole table-banging during Birkat Hamazon thing. Real Jewish commitment is not contained in those things, which are quite honestly more an affirmation of ethno-cultural solidarity than religious piety.
I wish there were camps where our kids could go to have fun, enjoy nature, and connect with God and Torah without being indoctrinated with vicarious Israeli identity or neo-traditional practices which are in some cases actually irreverent!
Thanks, Jordan, for your kind words.
Jane, thank you for your post! I’m so glad I’m not the only one who missed out on the Jewish camp experience and wonders what might have been (though as a convert, I have to wonder what might have been if I had had a Jewish upbringing at all). This is my second summer as a Jew and so far summers are the hardest, because the entire Jewish world (blogosphere, d’vars, etc) becomes camp-centric in a way that I will never be able to understand. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels left out.
Jordan, I know you like to use the comments section as a soapbox for Classical Reform Judaism, but has it ever occurred to you that some people use those “neo-traditional practices” to meaningfully “connect with God and Torah”?
“has it ever occurred to you that some people use those “neo-traditional practices” to meaningfully “connect with God and Torah?”
The anser, Erin, is yes. It would be a sin for me to deny that. Furthermore, it’s all a matter of perspective–there is a whole spectrum between “strict” Classical Reform and vigorous neo-traditionalism. Many older people who grew up Classical would probably brand me a little bit “traditionalist” for their tastes as well! But the issue is that the effect of the knee-jerk rebellion against CR (which has only slowed, not stopped) has been just as suppressive of diversity as “Classical Reform orthodoxy” was. Even staunch anti-CR advocates like my friend Larry Kaufman admit that pluralism is important, but many people who are products of the URJ camps assume that it’s heresy and a crime to attend Jewish worship without a head covering, and will become agitated and angry when they see it. I have my pet peeves, and sometimes like to call certain traditional practices “obnoxious” on a purely aesthetic level, but that only means that I need to attend (or one day serve) a different congregation. It doesn’t mean that I deny the possibility of those practices being powerful avenues to God and spiritual elevation.
I do know, however, that at least some of the time it is in fact empty ritual, which is more of an ethno-cultural affirmation than a means to a religious end. People are missing out on deep, genuine, beautiful spirituality when they are taught that Judaism and Jewishness are contained in those outer forms. Then, once people have a spiritual foundation, they might begin exploring traditional and non-traditional ways to express and embody those values through ritual. But I believe substance MUST come first, in stark contrast to the traditional notion that if you mechanically perform a ritual for long enough, the meaning will follow.
Erin, I’m glad that my post struck a chord with you and that it has sparked some lively, spirited discussion.