What Parents CANNOT Do

From the Resiliency Files
Today's post was originally posted by URJ Eisner Camp - one of my two camp homes. I am sharing because of the quote from Michael Thompson. The eight things parents cannot do should be embroidered on blankets sent home with babies from the hospital. More on this in the coming weeks.

Overnight Camp Is Jewish Education

When you think of providing a Jewish education for your child, you may think of teaching them about their heritage, building a relationship with Israel, and giving them a familiarity with Hebrew. You may think about conveying our core values and celebrating Shabbat. Or perhaps you think of cultivating their spiritual side and providing them with a robust Jewish community. Jewish summer camp can help you give your child a Jewish education in all of these ways. But Jewish overnight camp can also help you give your child a Jewish education by giving them the tools to grow into the best version of themselves and to live independently. 

Dr. Michael Thompson in his book Homesick and Happy: How Time Away from Parents Can Help a Child Grow names eight things we cannot do for our children: 

1. Make them happy
2. Give them high self-esteem
3. Make friends for them or micromanage their friendships
4. Successfully double as our child’s agent, manager, and coach
5. Create the “second family” for which our children yearn in order to facilitate their own growth
6. Compete with or limit children’s immersion in the digital and social media realms
7. Keep them perfectly safe (although we can make them crazy trying!)
8. Make them independent

Overnight camp, according to Dr. Thompson’s research, can give our children the freedom and environment to do many of these things for themselves. 

Maybe learning to become an independent adult does not seem to fall into the realm of goals of Jewish education, but in fact, it does. The word Torah and the word for teacher (moreh/ah) and parent (horeh/ah) all come from the same Hebrew root for the word “instruct”. As parents, the Torah, or instruction, which we must give our children goes well beyond the world of Jewish ritual or even values. The Talmud teaches in Kiddushin 29a: 

Our Rabbis taught: A parent is obligated to do the following for their child*: enter the child into the covenant of the Jewish people, redeem the firstborn [from service in the Temple], teach them Torah, find them a spouse, and teach them a trade. And there are some who also say that a parent must also teach their child to swim. 

Some of these tasks seem obvious–we are obligated to help our children fulfill mitzvot as infants which they could not do for themselves. We want to help them step into adulthood by giving them a marketable skill and the ability to start their own families. But why should we teach them to swim? Perhaps because this is a skill that could save their lives. 

I like to consider this reference to swimming more metaphorically. The ocean is a vast unknown. Its depths are mysterious, ever-changing, and unexplored. If we prepare our children to swim, we acknowledge that the world into which we will send them is unfamiliar to us; we cannot give them the exact tools they will need, nor can we protect them from every uncertainty, but we can prepare them by making them resilient and up to the task of facing the challenges the surely will encounter. This is our charge as Jewish parents, and this is what Jewish summer camp can help us do. 

*This is an updated, gender-inclusive translation.

For more on this topic, listen to this podcast with psychologist Dr. Wendy Mogel, “Teaching to Swim Without a Pool.”

Hello? Is it me you’ Looking for?

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely,
or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying
I love you

By Lionel Richie and Eddy Marnay
© Warner Chappell Music, Inc

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I am not a huge Lionel Richie fan. Don’t dislike him, but I would need need to Shazam the lyrics if I wanted to sing along. Spending as much time and energy thinking about and working to change our religious school, I find myself thinking about this song a lot.

In our synagogue context “you” are the folks that are in the demographic of Jews who in the past have joined synagogues and enrolled their children in Jewish learning programs. “I” am the synagogue, school, educators and clergy as we face the needs of this newest generation.

The research tells us that Millennials (born 1981-1996) and Generation Z (born 1997-present) are indeed spiritual seekers. It also tells us that many of them - maybe even most of them - are pretty sure they won’t find that spirituality they are looking for in legacy institutions like synagogues or churches.

You can Google and find stories from 20 and 40 and I would bet 60 years ago where leaders of those same legacy institutions bemoan the likelihood that the “new” generation is going to turn its back on faith and tradition. They insist that we need to make everything anew to meet their needs. And you can find articles from those same times that say “Just wait. They will have children and will want those children to go to religious school and become B’nai Mitzvah. And that is what happened more often than not.

So perhaps we should just wait out the current existential crisis.

Ummmm...no. I don’t think that is a good idea. You see, my great grandfather Abraham Seidenfeld came to the US from Łódź, Poland in 1913. My son Ethan is a Millennial and Harper is Generation Z.  They are FIFTH generation Americans. I imagine your children are also 5th or even 6th generation Americans. (Perhaps not, especially if you or your parents came from the former Soviet Union, but that is not a huge percentage of American Jews.)

There is a fair amount of research that documents how with each additional generation following immigration, commitment to certain ethnic or religious traditions wanes more and more. We may keep a sense of identification, but we often lose the habits that go with it. This applies to every immigrant group, not just Ashkenazi Jews. There are studies that focus on Japanese, Italian and even Irish immigrants, to name a few.

So while my parents were pretty sure about me and my fellow baby boomers,I am not sure about our kids. When I was young I knew and loved my immigrant ancestors. I made pilgrimage to Łódź last summer and had coffee on a balcony that was in the location where my Grandma Honey lived before coming here as a little girl. She died two years before I became a father.

We cannot rely on the same expectations we once did. Millennial parents often don’t feel the same pull of tradition as Baby Boomers or even Generation Xers. We are still trying to figure out what “you” are looking for. We are not relying on hope and prayers to sustain our synagogues or larger Jewish communities. We are trying to enter into a conversation.

And we start by saying “I love you.”

And we continue by listening. More next week.

I just returned from a week serving on the faculty of Crane Lake Camp in West Stockbridge,  MA. It is the third URJ camp I have been proud to serve, in addition to Eisner Camp and Olin Ruby Union Institute. I was asked to write a post for the camp blog, which is largely directed at parents of campers as well as the lay and professional leaders in the Northeast. 

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Every day at Crane Lake Camp is filled with fun and engaging activity. Sports, arts, drama and just hanging out with friends – like most summer camps – are a part of every camper’s experience. At CLC, there is a Jewish context that takes those same experiences a little further.

Our all-camp middah (Jewish Value) of the week is Ga’avah – Pride. For much of the week, we have focused on learning to be proud of our Jewish identities, of our community and our actions in support of one another.

During Limud[i] the other day, a group of Bonim campers were at the low ropes course to explore the middah of courage or ometz lev. When they were not exploring it by attempting elements of the course they were talking about different aspects of courage with staff and faculty.

During one discussion, the topic was “Fear of Failure.” It was apparent that many of these young campers had wrestled with that one. They shared what it meant to them, steps they might take to overcome it and even some examples of when they had faced that fear.

One thing that stood out was that there have definitely been times in their very young lives that they have felt unworthy of even trying to succeed.They shared their self-doubt. And then they moved to dispel those fears in their friends. I have to say that they were all very supportive and encouraged one another to move beyond that fear.

The next morning, I shared a story during the “Words of Wisdom” portion of morning t’filah. Many of us know the midrash[ii] that suggests we should each keep two pieces of paper in our pockets. One should say “The world was created for my sake” and other “I am but dust and ashes.”

We often share this midrash in order to talk about humility, since we are supposed to read the second message when we feel arrogant or overly prideful.

Inspired by those Bonim campers’ words to one another I suggested that we all need to focus a little more on the other message, that the world was created for our sake. If you believe – as I do – that each of us was ultimately created by God – then we are created in God’s image. And God doesn’t make junk.

When we doubt ourselves, questioning our worthiness, we have to remember that each of us matters. Camp would be diminished and far less amazing if even one of us were not here.

Listening to our campers reach out and support one another, they taught each other – and me – that being proud also means that “YOU MATTER.”

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[i] Limud means learning. At CLC, we spend some time specifically focused on learning about Jewish values – middot – through a variety of experiential means. It is still fun, but the idea that we are learning something in the process is clearly stated.

[ii] Originally credited to Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Pryszska.

The Sounds of our People

I grew up with a mother who loved WFMF radio in Chicago. Today we would call it “easy listening” but to mom it was the music she always loved. Henry Mancini. Mel Torme. Steve Lawrence and Edie Gorme. Tony Bennet. You know, old people music – at least it was to a teenager in the 70’s.[1] Of course my music was very different. Meatloaf. Simon and Garfunkel. The Grateful Dead. Supertramp.

We both loved Debbie Friedman and Kol B’seder – two of the many amazing sources of Jewish music that started to appear in the early 70’s. If you come to services this (or any) Shabbat you are certain to hear some of their music. Each generation finds its own sound, its own beat. Our musical choices say something about us. While the sound reveals a great deal, the lyrics – the poetry – says even more.

Whenever we greet new Shinshinim – Young Israeli Emissaries – I ask them what Israeli artists they have on their playlists. I often buy the music they suggest and I listen to it for my own enjoyment and I also play it on the loudspeakers in the school as students arrive and depart for Religious School.

The poetry of Israeli music is fascinating to me. On the one hand it often reflects the current mood and reality of life in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem or even in the desert. On the other hand, because bible is taught in the public schools as a source of our history, many Israeli songwriters use words and imagery that comes directly from the Torah, or the Prophets or even the Psalms. To the average Israeli, this is part of the everyday vernacular. To an American Jew who is listening to and reading the words, it is a revelation.

Sometimes we will share the lyrics in translation with our students as a way of unpacking the meaning of song. We will look at its biblical sources (if there are any) and look at how the story the song tells reflects current reality on the streets and in the homes of Israel. We use it to open a window into the lives of our cousins across the ocean.

Yuval and Rotem, our current Shinshinim, have created a bulletin board near the stairs in our school wing. You can see that it looks like a Spotify page. They introduce us to some Israeli songs and artists. It also has a special Spotify bar code. If you have Spotify on your phone you can use its scanning feature to scan the bar code. This will give you access to Yuval and Rotem’s 93 song Israeli Music playlist. I urge you to scan it and start listening. They include songs from many genres and generations of Israeli music. Get to know Shlomo Artzi, who is as big as Elton John or Paul McCartney over there – and from their generation. Or listen to Idan Reichel who brings in musicians from all over the world. Let your ears bring the sounds of Israel to you.

Scan this image from within the Spotify App to access the Playlist

The purpose of the Young Emissary program is to create a living bridge between our community and the land and people of Israel. It is a program cosponsored by all of the area synagogues and the Federation for Jewish Philanthropy. And it relies on each of us to help. Yuval and Rotem will return to Israel and begin their military service after the summer.

We will welcome new Shinshinim in September. If your community has a program like this, please think about inviting one of them to live in your home for 3 months or so. We did and we talk or text with Lidor every week. It changed us for the better. Please email, call or visit the coordinator in your community to talk about whether hosting an emissary is right for you!

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[1] Full disclosure, I now love Mel Torme and most of Mom’s favorites, but I listen to it when I am alone in the car.

Words Matter. Actions Matter More.

This is Jacob, one of our Hadrakhahnikim
helping students and parents!

Language is a funny thing. Since we also teach (and pray in) Hebrew in our school, it can be twice as challenging for us. For twenty three years, we have put two teenagers in most of our Sunday classrooms that serve younger students. Originally just Gan – Kitah Gimel (K – 3), since 2010 we have also done so through Kitah Vav (6th grade). Our goal for them was threefold: 1) they served as role models to younger students, both in terms of classroom behaviors and as something to which they might aspire; 2) the teens provided a teacher with additional eyes, ears, hands and legs. As the teenager develops skills, the possibilities for creative learning expands exponentially for the class; and 3) the teens develop into pretty well trained teachers themselves. I have helped them find jobs near their colleges and two of them have returned to teach for us here!

For all of that time, we called them madrikhim. It literally means “those who show the way,” deriving from the route derekh, which means road or path. Madrikhim describes a group of them, with at least one member of the group being male. A single male would be a madrikh, a single female a madrikhah, and an all-female group would be madrikhot. A nice word, very descriptive. But language is a funny thing. Hebrew is a gendered language. And we have two veterans of that group who each prefer to be called they/them instead of he/him or she/her. Hebrew gives us no help.

Our Jewish values can give us a clue. Genesis says that the first human was created in God’s image (B’tzelem Elohim). It does not tell us that the image in question is about physical attributes, even though many through history have thought so. The Gevurot prayer, which we chant at every service praises God for all of the things God is described as doing in the Torah – redeeming the captives, freeing the slaves, visiting the sick (to name three). It suggests that this B’tzelem Elohim business is about how we have been created with the ability to do the stuff God does.

If Torah has taught me anything, it (and my parents) has taught me to make my home – and our synagogue – a place where ALL will feel welcome. That includes people whose understanding of themselves is different from what others might choose to think. So the Religious School Vision Team and the faculty have agreed that we should no longer use the various forms of the word madrikh to describe our teen educational leaders. Instead we will refer to the program in which they participate as Team Hadrakhah. Same root, but the translation is “Leadership” which is perfectly descriptive. While the word may be in the feminine form, we are not using it to label the gender of those in it. We will refer to them as Hadrakhahniks (like Kibbutznik!) if we need a descriptor like that.

The hadrakhahniks, parents and teachers now understand all of this. The younger kids likely won’t notice. They tend to be more interested in knowing the teen in their classroom by name and relating to them, rather than what name we adults use. And hopefully, if one of our pre-teens is struggling with issues of personal gender identity, they will hear the message and know this is always a safe space for them. And that here we have people with whom they can talk. Language is powerful.

On Being Chosen

When you share print things other people say, it can go one of two ways. If you claim their words as your own, it is plagiarism. And that is not a good thing. On the other hand, Pirkei Avot 6.6 says that “one who says something in the name of the one who said it brings redemption to the world.” Our world is definite need of redemption, so let’s hear from those who have taught us best – our students!

In Kitah Hey (5th grade) at my school, Susan Walden asked her students to pair up and pretend to be Moses. As Moses they had to answer the question “Why did God choose me (of all people) to lead the Israelites out of Egypt?” Their answers are brilliant in so many ways…these are excerpts from much longer answers.

• “God said I was honest, selfless and brave and I respect Him/Her. Maybe I should take the chance!” – Rachel and Lila
• “I think God chose me to lead the Israelites because I followed God’s command.” – Kate and Ethan
• “God chose me because He noticed me having compassion and putting others before myself.” – Adam and Jack
• “As a leader I give the people what they want and inspire them to do what they do.” – Brooke and Isaac
• “I realized that the Israelites are important and they were suffering.” – Ruby and Sophia

As I read their answers, I hear three things. First I hear the plain meaning – what the rabbis call the p’shat. They are learning the stories. They are getting the information.

Second, I hear them putting themselves into the Torah. All of their answers are in the first person – “I realized,” “I was honest.” “I followed.” By writing themselves into the story, by trying to see through Moses’ eyes, they are interpreting the text. The rabbis called this drash.

Finally, I hear a clue of where these stories are taking them. “I was honest, selfless and brave.” “I had compassion and put others before myself.” The rabbis referred to these clues in the text as remez. The remez here is also about what we are seeing these young people becoming. If they could not see themselves as possibly having these qualities, I am not sure they would have answered the same way.

It is exciting to see learning happen. You can almost visualize the gears turning or the flow of electrons if you prefer the digital version. It is exciting to see teachers like Susan make this happen by challenging the students to dig deep into themselves.

And I visualize these same students in five years as members of our Confirmation class. Just as this year’s class did a few weeks ago, they will travel to Washington D.C. with our rabbi. They will use the skills of discerning the plain meaning, interpretation and seeking clues as they encounter issues before Congress. They will stake out a position rooted in Jewish values. Then they will go up to Capitol Hill and tell our representatives how thy expect them to vote.

It is a powerful lesson. And it started in Kitah Hey. And in Gan (K). And in all the grades in between.

Yes, I am conflicted. Yes, I love Israel. Yes I am going (as often as I can).

I love Israel. I hope you do to.

There is not a “but” or an “except” that follows that statement. That is the thing about love. When you love someone, you love them. You love them even though you know they are not perfect. You love them even though they make you sometimes want to be in a different physical space when they are doing or saying something. You love them even when they do things that fly in the face of everything they have always said they believe in. You even love them when they choose to believe something else.

I will not recap the news for you. The government of Israel has done a number of things that some of us wish they hadn’t. By the way, some of us wish they had done it sooner and with greater impact – that is the nature of family, we don’t always agree. On college campuses and in the leadership of several movements that some of us have felt drawn to, there have been profound attacks on Israel and those who believe in her.

Our Israeli "son" Lidor,
who lived with us for four months

Even some Jews have decided that the actions of the government make it impossible to support Israel at all. And there are certainly moments when I wish that many of those actions were different. And I still love Israel. I love Israelis. Not all of them, but I have a lot of friends and some family there. All of our shinshinim are there and I try to visit many of them whenever I visit.

I love the fact that I can walk the streets of Jerusalem and feel like I am not a tourist, but in my second home. I love that I am finally starting to explore Tel Aviv. I love the stories of the building of the nation and have had the privilege to meet some of the non-famous people who helped to build it. And I love that I feel it is mine. It is family.

And that means even when I am disappointed, I still love Israel.

In our curriculum, and with the help of our teachers and the shinshinim, we are trying to help our students find that kind of connection. That is why our Kitah Hey (5th grade) students have an ongoing relationship with their peers at the Nitzavim School in Rishon L’Tzion south of Tel Aviv. And that is why we encourage our teenagers and adults to travel to Israel.

For the past five summers I have chaperoned the NFTY L’dor Vador trips on their first leg through Eastern Europe on their way to Israel. We explore a thousand years of Jewish life in Europe and the yearning hose Jews had to return to Eretz Yisrael – the land of Israel. We also explore the tragic end of most of those communities. Then I escort them to Israel as they begin a four week adventure, and hopefully turn their connection with Israel into a love affair.

We need your help. Read the news. If, like many American Jews you have avoided engaging in Israel because it is complicated and sometimes troubling, stop. Engage. Form an opinion that allows you to engage. I urge you not give up on Israel, but rise to the challenge of imagining a peaceful, complete Israel. And talk about it with your kids. We cannot make them love it if you don’t.

I hope you will note that I have not told you what opinions to have about Israel. That is not up to me. I just want you to engage and teach your children to engage. Because this is about family. I can remember signs that once said “America. Love it or leave it.” I hope that you will join me in loving Israel. Leaving it is unthinkable to me – even from this side of the Atlantic.

And plan on sending your child or your family to Israel. If not this summer then soon.