Stones in the Road (With Apologies to Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Last Shabbat morning, I had an opportunity to walk a familiar path at GUCI. It is a stroll I have taken hundreds if not thousands of times over the years. I shlepped my guitar along that well-worn gravel road that leads from the Chadar Ochel to the Beit T'fillah in order to prepare for services. But, what made this particular saunter unique is that it was the only time during the reunion weekend that I found myself completely alone.

It was a moment I used for some reflection. I wanted to take in the experience; to feel the stones in the road beneath my sandals, to smell the acrid August morning air. You see, when one reaches a certain point in life, the importance of such memories takes on a sense of deep and compelling urgency. I didn't want to forget anything about this place. This was the place of my youth. This was the place of my faith. This was the place of my deepest and oldest friendships. This was the place of decency. This was the place of true love.

As I trudged down that road, I could clearly recall the faces of hundreds, no...thousands, of campers and staff that had shared this sacred space with me in decades past. They were the pictures of tanned youth and sinewed strength. They had dreams and plans and hopes and ambitions. We were just coming into our own and the world would be stunned by our radiance. We rebounded from our disappointments far more gracefully and we hid our cynicism far more easily. We were idealistic and foolish in a way that only youth can forgive. Time was our ally and we had no thoughts of its fleeting.

I became acutely aware of the memories that each of the four-hundred of us has; those of us who made the pilgrimage back to this blessed, steamy cow-patch in weirdly but aptly Jewishly named, Zionsville. Each of us sharing those memories with others until the incomplete individual became the collective whole. A patchwork quilt of recollections woven together by laughter and prayer. It brought the holiness of this place into better focus for me.

As I came into the Beit T'fillah, I heard the din of conversations. People simply could not stop talking and sharing. I tuned my guitar and started to play the music of Shabbat morning with song leaders of my son's generation. We had only met the night before and had no idea if or how we might fit together but the sanctity of the space elevated our voices in perfect harmony. We all inherently understood how to do this because this is where we were tutored.

There is so much emotion wrapped up in a trip of forty-eight hours. It wasn't nearly long enough and yet it was perfection. I rediscovered a purity in my Judaism that had been sorely lacking lately. I heard The Divine Spirit whisper to me in the strings of a plucked banjo and I tasted Her kiss in the treacly Shabbos kugel. I sang until my lungs burned and I played until my fingers bled. I was more engaged in my faith during those two days than I have been in the past two years. This is the magic of Goldman Union Camp and it is a magic that every single one of the four hundred inherently understands. We are all just stones in the road of this place and for one weekend, we all came home.

Girls With Guitars

I learned to play guitar on my Dad's twenty-dollar, bargain purchase from Eaton's.

It was collecting dust in his closet and I thought I would give it a go. I really just wanted to play some of the old Peter, Paul, and Mary songs that he was so fond of so that we could sing together. I never thought of the possibilities or where that old six-string might take me.

When I was growing up, Jewish music was the sole purvey of men. Even in my Reform congregation, I had never seen a woman sing on the bimah with the exception of a choir solo or two on Yom Kippur. Men were the cantors. Young men were the song leaders.

And then one day, my parents gifted me with the first NFTY album, Songs NFTY Sings, and I heard her voice. Debbie Friedman z"l opened up the world to me. Here was a woman unapologetically singing, writing, and song leading in a way that moved people to think about Jewish music in a whole different way. Through that album, she told me that I could do it too.

When I first attended UCI (GUCI came later) in 1975 as a Gezah camper, I was enthralled by the music and the young men who were leading it. I heard Debbie's songs but I couldn't see Debbie in their faces and I couldn't hear her voice. I loved each and every one of them who became my guides and my teachers but I had to ask,

"Where are the women?" "Where are the girls?" "Can I do that, too?"

It was Ron who encouraged that simmering Jewish musician in me. He mentored me, pushed me, and set me up with a line of teachers whom I will carry with me forever. I will admit that he had some initial reservations about my small stature and whether or not I could be seen during a Shabbat song-session in the Chadar Ochel or if my voice could carry, but together we proved that girls with guitars could rock GUCI. In 1983 I became the first female head song leader in GUCI history and the pride and joy that I feel when I see young women today lead in the Chadar or the Beit T'fillah is overwhelming.

Music at GUCI is a defining core value. When we sing as a camp community we open ourselves up to the depths of our Jewishness. We find common ground in our spirituality, our language, and our love of the Divine Spirit. I never set out to be a trailblazer but watching and hearing all of those girls with guitars who lifted up their voices after me and found inclusion in the music, is something that I will always cherish.

Shiru L'Adonai Shir Chadash.  

Everything is Connected

I am continually amazed by the power of camp. At least the one that I attended. It seems that no matter how far we have all travelled, how diverse our journeys, we all remain interconnected by that cow patch in Indiana. It has been a long time since I was there, and yet events keep popping up that somehow wield a magical force which transports me back to those days of sweltering heat, Shabbat walks, and sugar-laden bug juice. That confluence of happenings is occurring once again this Shabbat in Washington D.C.

This weekend, NFTY-The North American Federation of Temple Youth, is celebrating their 75th anniversary with an alumni concert, featuring my old GUCI buddy Dan Nichols. GUCI's Avodah '82 took it upon themselves to arrange for a reunion using the concert as the centrepiece of their weekend festivities. I was not a part of that Avodah crew. I was a counsellor and songleader that year, but their festivities did get me thinking about that summer, the summer of '82. That was the summer of "Everything is Connected."

Now if any of you have ever been inside of the GUCI gates, have had any connection to GUCI campers or staff, or have even been to a Dan Nichols concert or seminar, you will have heard about "Everything is Connected." It is one of those urban legend-type stories that is hardly believable some thirty plus years later. But, for those of us who were there to witness it, it remains one of the singular defining moments of our camp experience.

It all began with the legendary and remarkably gifted Bonia Shur. Bonia was a great composer and an unbelievable force in Reform Jewish music. His compositions are performed around the world, and he was a deeply respected professor of liturgical arts at Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati. In the summer of '82, Bonia and his wife Fanchon came to visit GUCI for a Shabbat to act as a sort of scholar/musician in residence. This was long before any of us immature teenagers truly understood what a gift it was having Bonia in our midst. Bonia was brilliant, but eccentric. He had a wild, unkempt look about him, a sort of shlubby-looking Beethoven, and he was so far ahead of his time in trying to convey new age ideas on liturgy and prayer circles, that most of us really didn't know what to make of him. We tended to giggle a lot and we were wholly unimpressed that Fanchon wanted to introduce movement into our prayer experiences. We had no idea what was to come.

After lights-out on Kabbalat Shabbat, the staff was directed to attend a special Oneg. Bonia and Fanchon would be leading the program. He had the entire staff stand in a large circle in the dining hall. Bonia then proceeded to take a long rope and asked everybody to grab hold of it. Fanchon insisted that we move the rope together rhythmically as one community. Now, just picture it. A group of sweaty, awkward teenagers and young staff standing in a circle clutching a rope and moving it forward and backward. There was a lot of laughing and a lot of mocking. But Bonia was undeterred. He just kept it moving. Finally, he asked somebody, anybody, to shout out a phrase as to how this made them feel. I honestly can't recall who said it, but somebody yelled "Everything is connected!" Bonia began to chant a melody. "Everything is connected. Everything is connected." Over and over again. It went on and on and on. We convulsed in giggles. He asked for another phrase. "It will work out!", another person yelled. Bonia began to chant. And he kept chanting. And he kept chanting. "Everything is connected. It will work out!"

Most of us had never heard the phrase 'mantra' before, and even fewer had ever been to a yoga class. But Bonia knew. He just kept chanting and kept the rope moving. It went on for what seemed like an eternity. I don't remember when it happened or even how it happened, but suddenly I realized that I was chanting too. And so was every single person in that room. "Everything is connected. It will work out." The laughter and mocking gave way to spiritual involvement. The discomfort at trying something new melted as we found relaxation in the prayer. There was serenity in the interconnectivity. Later that weekend, Bonia and Fanchon introduced our new GUCI mantra to the entire camp. Everything is Connected became the watchword for the summer.

I don't think that any of us could have foreseen social media and how intertwined we would still be in 2015. That Shabbat evening in Zionsville united us all in a way that can still be talked about, but never truly felt unless you were there to experience it. But, Bonia knew it all those years ago and he insisted that we share it. Interconnectivity is vital to everything that we do in our lives. We all have an impact and an import on those around us; those with whom we live, work, and love. We cannot and should not neglect those relationships, because in the end we are all we have. 

It has been an incredibly challenging start to 2015. Perhaps if we all just take a step back, breathe in and out rhythmically, and chant Bonia's mantra, we might find a bit more peace on this Shabbat. Have fun Avodah '82. Everything is still very much connected.

Eighth Night For Ethan

**This is an edited and updated version of an appeal I gave at my synagogue's Yom Kippur morning services this year. The call for action is still just as relevant today almost three months later.

I stand before you as an alumnus of the URJ Goldman Union Camp Institute. GUCI, as it is affectionately known, is a sister camp to our very own Camp George which is located in Zionsville Indiana, just north of Indianapolis. GUCI was my home for 9 summers; as a camper, counselor, leadership staff, and songleader. It is the place where I learned to live and breathe Judaism, to find connection, to discover myself. It was where I chose to send my own children and it is where they too came into their own as active members of the Reform Jewish community. GUCI is a part of my soul, my lifeblood. The GUCI community and the extended URJ camping community are family.

And so it was that the news from GUCI this summer struck such a personal chord. On June 29th, the peace of a Shabbat afternoon was rocked by a lightning strike that left three young campers who were playing Ultimate Frisbee, injured on the athletic field. There were no storms forecasted for the area, nor was there a cloud in the sky. The lightning was truly a bolt out of the blue. Due to the quick response and heroic efforts of staff, all of whom are personally known to my own sons, the campers were rushed to area hospitals and all survived. Two of those children thankfully have recovered, with one even returning to camp for a visit.

The third camper, 13 year old Ethan Kadish, was hospitalized in his hometown of Cincinnati for 145 days and he and his family are in need of our help. His injuries have been catastrophic and the challenges that he faces are many. For these many months, Ethan has been working hard on his daily therapies in preparation for his discharge that finally occurred yesterday and saw him return home. But he and his family still face a long road ahead. There are mounting financial costs that are related to his ongoing care and therapies, and the accommodations that need to be made to their home.

Every morning at GUCI the camp gathers together to sing the song “L’takein” written by GUCI alum Dan Nichols and former director Rabbi Ron Klotz. The lyrics are as follows:

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam shenatan lanu hizdamnut l’takein et ha’olam.

Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has given us the opportunity to mend the world.

We have a chance to help mend Ethan’s world.

At the end of August, during the week that was to have seen Ethan called to the Torah as a Bar Mitzvah, a fundraising campaign was launched to help the Kadish family meet the immense financial challenges that lay ahead for uninsured therapies, home modifications, and other injury related expenses. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, President of The Union for Reform Judasim reminds us that our tradition teaches:

Kol Yisrael arevim zeh b’zeh...all Jews are responsible one for the other. I would like to think that maybe Kol ha-anashim arevim zen b'zeh...that all people are responsible one for the other.

In an effort to help the Kadish family, a series of fundraising events will be held this Chanukah. From the URJ.

In connection with the Union for Reform Judaism, and HelpHOPELive, URJ Camp George has organized a fundraising flashmob on the 8th Night of Hanukkah called 8th Night for Ethan.  This campaign invites individuals and organizations to give donations (in multiples of 18 – a number that symbolizes good luck in the Jewish tradition) over an 18-hour period on the last night of Hanukkah. Donations will go directly to HelpHOPELive, which has set up a fundraising campaign to assist with Ethan’s ongoing medical expenses. Camp George’s Facebook page will include updates on the event beginning on November 27 (the first night of Hanukkah) and ending on Wednesday December 4 (the 8th Night of Hanukkah).

On the eighth night this year, it is my fervent hope that every family who lights a Chanukiah will light a blue candle in Ethan's honour, and in lieu of gifts that evening to please make a donation to HelpHOPELive to help with his ongoing care.

The Talmud teaches that whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved the entire world. (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:9) Ethan's world needs our help. Together we can make it a little bit better.