Indelible Connections

Crossposted at The URJ Israel Programs Blog

 

There is a resonant story we hear from many Birthright participants throughout their experiences in Israel. Before coming to Israel, many feel nominally connected to Judaism and Jewish people, but by the end of ten packed, intense days most were lamenting the absence of Jewish community and connection in their lives back home. Wandering through the old city in Jerusalem, jam sessions with guitars extending late into the night, waking up together in a large Bedouin tent – so many experiences on Birthright solidify the group as a cohesive, supportive Jewish community.

One of the eight Israelis who traveled with our group shared the surprise she felt when she saw American Jews crying over the graves of fallen soldiers at Har Herzl; she couldn’t imagine Israelis doing the same at, say, Arlington cemetery. Clearly this group felt connected to Israeli soldiers and their mission, and that touched and awed her.

Birthright is an incomparable catalyst for young adult engagement. The experience of ten days in the Jewish country – developing deep relationships that only an immersive experience can allow – gives participants time to cultivate, and (for most) reengage with Jewish content and ideas.

We know that Birthright has immense potential to shift young adults towards greater Jewish connections. In fact, our group found the concept and term “kesher,” or connection, extremely apt. They used it often as a group and even considered getting tattoos with the word on our last night in Israel. Ultimately, they decided the relationships and photographs were indelible enough to keep the memories from the trip alive.

But what is it that makes the connections through Kesher different from some of the other Israel program options available? When asked by a number of our participants, here’s some of what we told them:

Kesher is a Reform Jewish experience. Out of the field of 16 different organizations running Birthright trips in North America, 10 are non-denominational, 5 are Orthodox, and only 1 offers a progressively religious trip: Kesher. Our Jewish background influences all that we do – from our pluralistic approach to Judaism in Israel; to our dedication to a liberal vision of Zionism; to encouraging a lovingly nuanced relationship with the State of Israel; to nurturing an active relationship with Jewish life upon returning to North America.

Kesher is more than just a tour. One of the strongest messages we reinforced is that Kesher is not simply a whirlwind ten-day tour of a foreign land, rather it is a pilgrimage to our homeland. The most moving and resonant expression of this ideology was framed through sharing with our participants that tourists walk through a land, however for those on a pilgrimage, the land walks through them.

With that sense of Reform Jewish community and pilgrimage in mind, one of our favorite experiences from this trip was the ongoing discussion of three concepts of community (tzibbur, kehillah, and eidah) introduced during our Torah Study for Shabbat Vayakhel-Pekudei. Listening to the way the members of our trip discussed what Jewish communities meant to them, as their feet pounded the pavement and paths of the Old City, the trail up Masada, and the cobblestones of Tzfat was astounding and breathtaking.

Over the past ten days, we were moved and rejuvenated as we watched a new community form, while the land of Israel walked through 39 North Americans and 8 Israelis in new ways – for them, as well as for us.

Ich spreche nicht Wissenschaft

My mom shared this teaching with me, from a Torah Study she lead on Tu BiSh’vat:

In our society, we rush from one task to another with hardly a moment to pause and reflect in a long week of work. Our culture tells us to do more, work harder, and buy more – an endless cycle which undermines our peace of mind and causes tremendous impacts on our environment. By not being present in the moment, we lose sight of what truly matters. Our hectic pace leads to using our planet’s resources more rapidly than they can be renewed, and leaving too little for others and future generations.

Rabbi Yonatan Neril

It’s odd… there is no shortage of scientific data that can teach us about the consequences of our actions that are leading to the deterioration of the planet. Of course, this assumes that you are of sound mind and judgement to not conveniently ignore or dismiss this data.

And yet – if you’re like me – that scientific data is incredibly hard to decipher. I trust it; I know that most of those doing environmental research are smarter than I and are worthy of my trust in this area. But I’m not a scientist, and the most of data doesn’t speak to me; at least not in my language.

So… I can read something like what Rabbi Neril writes, and come to the same conclusion as the scientists: the way most humans in the Western world live is not sustainable. We are undermining our own future. That we can come to the same conclusion from vastly different approaches – in essence, from two incredibly different languages – I think is a beautiful.

New Birthright Staff Training Program Focuses on Centrality of North American Staff

Check out my new piece for eJewish Philanthropy! Originally posted here.

In the past year, the North American Jewish community became more aware of the critical role North American madrichim play in the Taglit-Birthright Israel experience.

Many in the Birthright community have observed the challenges associated with the North American staffing model, where there has been a less than tongue-in-cheek acceptance that the real substance of the trip “magically” happens at the hands of the Israeli tour guide, while the madrichim are viewed as little more than glorified babysitters. Thankfully, we’ve also heard responses from some (here and here) who are working to address these crucial challenges.

While Birthright participants do experience Israel with elements of surrealism and awe; and while we often speak of the “magic” of the Israel experience; Birthright is no magic trick. It involves great dedication, knowledge, skills, passion, and real work in both the months leading up to the trip, and in the months and years following the trip. Far from an elaborate illusion, Birthright is deeply rooted in reality.

So perhaps it is particularly poetic that a significant change within the Union for Reform Judaism’s birthright program – Kesher – took place just days before the start of Hanukkah, a holiday often associated with the magical story of oil lasting for eight days. We know that the reality of Hanukkah’s story is actually of a monumental change in the Jewish community that involved the real blood, sweat and tears of many Jews. To be sure, the name of the holiday itself teaches us of the inherent importance of dedication and rededication in shaping a lasting Jewish community.

With more than 40 Kesher Birthright trips per year, including over 1,700 participants and Israelis and upwards of 80 madrichim, it had become increasingly apparent that it was time to rededicate ourselves to the importance of our Birthright madrichim.

Empowering Madrichim as Experiential Educators

In early December, Kesher staff flew from all corners of North America to New York City for an intensive two-day in person staff training program. This rejuvenated, rededicated program was fully funded at no expense to the madrichim, who significantly volunteer their own time and energy with no financial remuneration. The training program was designed to bring the staff community together to learn from professionals in Jewish Experiential Education, share their own best practices, and meet and work with their co-staff in the months leading up to the trip (instead of at the airport just four hours prior to their trip).

Our goals were to empower the madrichim as Jewish experiential educators in their own right, to create an understanding of and dedication to our educational vision and mission, and to foster a strong staff community that would continually be a mutually supportive cohort. Through both a practical and theoretical paradigm, we examined the vision and mission of the URJ Birthright program, studied concepts of Jewish identity formation, explored the educational themes and goals of the sites we visit in Israel, and dedicated ourselves to the importance of fostering community before the trip itself begins. We also explored the importance of the 11th day of the program- what happens to participants upon their return to North America. Significantly, the madrichim also moved beyond the “babysitter” approach to staffing, and learned how to look after the participants through a model of “Caring for the Whole Person.”

Valuing Madrichim as Partners in Our Mission

This was an ambitiously designed program, and one that reveals its value over time. We immediately heard from our staff – both seasoned alumni as well as first-timers – that training together in an experiential environment has been rewarding and will contribute greatly to the excellence of the URJ’s Birthright program.

Joining the madrichim for a session was Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the URJ. He spoke passionately about his own first encounter with Israel, and about the centrality of the role that dedicated madrichim play as mentors in the Jewish journeys that Birthright participants undergo.

In the coming weeks and months, we look forward to learning more from our madrichim and participants about how this rededicated focus on our staff contributes to the excellence of the Israel experience for all those involved with the KESHER Taglit-Birthright Israel program.

Jesse Paikin is the Israel Programs Coordinator for the Union for Reform Judaism Camp & Israel Programs

After Birkenau

Walking out of Birkenau along the train rails, I was talking with Stephanie about our reactions to visiting the site for the first time. As we talked about emotions and education and history and the future, our discussion turned to Israel and Zionism. So fitting that as we stepped off of the rails and exited the death camp – something millions never did – we had the modern redemption of our people in our minds and on our tongues.

Driving to Auschwitz

The bus drive from Krakow to Auschwitz-Birkenau is silent, punctuated only by the faint sounds of Polish radio coming from the front of the bus.

I try to listen to some music – Radiohead – but can only bring myself to play Israeli music. After an hour of driving, even that somehow seems out of place. They didn’t have iPods on the cattle cars.

It occurs to me that there are very few things in life that can silence a group of 40 teenagers. Driving to Auschwitz is one of them.

Divinely Inspired Dwellings

Vanity Fair has a profile of and interview with Moshe Safdie. It’s pretty good, but the real genius comes right at the end, when Safdie drops a bomb of Jewish wisdom and compares a home to the mishkan. It’s a brilliant analogy:

I put it to him that, even so, he was a long, long way from one of the founding fathers of modern architecture, Le Corbusier, and his credo, “A house is a machine for living in.”

 

“A house is not a machine!” he (Safdie) exclaimed. “It’s something else for living—but not a machine.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“That’s a good question.”

 

He thought for a few moments. “You know, there’s a good Hebrew word for it, mishkan.”

 

He explained that in biblical terms it means a sacred place, a tabernacle, divinely inspired. (And there are rules laid down for building it.) But, for Moshe Safdie, the secular meaning of mishkan is a house—a sublime refuge midst the clamor of the world.

Men Can be Rabbis?

Crossposted at RJ.org and the NFTY blog

“Who’s that guy?” I asked my mom.

“He’s the rabbi,” she answered. I stared up at my mom, with a blank gaze on my face.

When I was eight years old, my family joined a synagogue for the first time.

Even before then, we always had a fairly strong sense of Jewish identify in our home – celebrating Shabbat every week at my grandparents’ house and observing Rosh Hashanah, Pesach and Chanukah together. From an early age, I was taught how to express the guttural ‘ch’ sound that permeates our people’s speech, and I have fond memories of helping my bubby place all of the items on the seder plate at Pesach, as I checked them off one-by-one in my own coloring book haggadah. The fact that my zaidy had given me The Big Book of Jewish Humor at a young age probably helped, too (or just made matters worse, according to my mother)

So I don’t recall struggling with any heavy questions about Judaism when my parents announced to my sister and I that we’d be joining a shul. They explained all about services, the rabbi, Hebrew school, and the like, and it all seemed fairly straightforward to me.

A few weeks later at the age of eight, I was shipped off to Hebrew school for the first time.

I was that rare breed of kid who actually enjoyed Hebrew school. Maybe it was partly because I was a dork, but I ascribe much of my thirst for Jewish knowledge to the inspirational education I received at the hands of my very first rabbi – Rabbi Nancy Wechsler (now Rabbi Wechsler-Azen of Congregation Beth Shalom in Carmichael, CA).

She was a product of our URJ camps, played guitar and sang with a beautiful voice, and led worship and classes with warmth and inspiration.

She had that rare ability to make eachof her young congregants truly feel that their connection with Judaism and with God was personally meaningful, important, and unique. She saw in each of us a holy spark to be nurtured as we travelled along on our Jewish journeys. On a weekly basis, she made us feel that being Jewish and coming to shul wasn’t a boring and burdensome task, but an exciting and meaningful part of our lives.

So when I looked up at my mom and asked her “Who’s that guy?” you can forgive me for not being even more confused.

I asked my mother that question at the age of nine while sitting in the pews of a synagogue that wasn’t our own. We were attending a friend’s Bar Mitzvah, and their congregation’s rabbi had just ascended the bimah.

He… was a ‘he.’

“Men can be rabbis?!” I exclaimed.

I don’t recall my mother’s response, but she assures me that it was a mixture of hilarity, amusement, mild embarrassment, and pride.

I had only known from Rabbi Wechsler, and assumed that all rabbis were women. I wouldn’t understand until years later that my then nine-year-old self had just wandered into one of the great issues of modern Judaism– women in the rabbinate and the role of women in Jewish life.

With the sudden realization that an entire new world was open to me as a male, I started pondering the possibility of a career as a professional Jew. At least that’s the version of events I tell myself today. I’m sure that nine-year-old Jesse just wanted the service to end as quickly as possible so we could get to the oneg.

But there is little doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have stayed connected to my Judaism through high school, university and beyond, and wouldn’t today be a Jewish Professional if it wasn’t for the foundation Rabbi Wechlser-Azen laid two decades ago.

So while I learned that day that men can indeed be rabbis, I’m pretty thankful that women can be, too.

It’s a cold day in hell; Brian Mulroney is here

Illustration by Anthony Jenkins | The Globe and Mail | 5.2009

“Popularity is meaningless unless you use it to do big and good things for your country and for the people of Canada.”

Wise words.

They’re from Brian Mulroney, speaking about Stephen Harper in an interview with Steve Paikin.

Yes, that Brian Mulroney.

Sure, the guy has a notoriously sleazy political record. But there’s something refreshing about a Tory who is willing to call out Stephen Harper and advance the notion that the government can be a force for greatness.

The Toronto Star’s article on Mulroney today also features off-the-record statements from Conservative staffers who lament that the Tories have few substantive accomplishments to show for their past half-decade in power.

And that’s the direction Canada appears to be heading in… great power wasted. To be sure, Tim Harper (no relation to Stephen) notes that “there is no overarching national debate over defining issues.”

I’m not wishing that Canadian politics become something akin to the political climate in the USA – with its assassinated politicians, gun-toting rallyers, and bombastic showboating – but I do feel a little jealous when confronted with the American desire to engage in national debates over issues of great substance.

That’s something we could learn from our fellow continental citizens.

Whichever candidate says 9/11 the most wins

Remember that episode of Family Guy where Lois runs for mayor? Remember how all she had say was “9/11″ to get elected? I kind of felt like I was in the middle of that episode tonight.

Yeah, I went to the Thornhill candidates’ debate tonight. To my American friends who are unfamiliar with the Canadian electoral system, here’s a primer, courtesy of our friends at Wikipedia. The debate was, for the most part, enlightening in its boredom.

I’ll have a more detailed commentary on the debate tomorrow. For now, I’ll just share two things that I’m left thinking this evening:

1. If all community debates are similar to the one I attended, it’s no wonder voter turnout is so low. For the most part (with some notable exceptions), all the candidates did was egotistically tout their qualifications, attack each other, and spit out sound-bites (including Peter Kent using 9/11 as an ominous harbinger of the dangers lapping at Canada’s shores). To her credit, Karen Mock acknowledged that this was a reality of shorter debates and directed people to her and her party’s website for more details.

2. In Thornhill, if you don’t want to see the Conservatives’ Peter Kent elected, I now believe that there’s only one party to vote for, and that is the Liberal Party. I know (painfully) that many point to this as a sign of the unfortunate state of representative democracy in this country. It is sad. It is unfortunate. But the NDP and Green candidates just aren’t up to par. Only the Liberals are in a position to defeat the Conservatives in Thornhill, and this remains true on the Federal level as well.

More to come, tomorrow.

In which I discover that the RCMP may be spying on me… and other interesting blog-related stats

A few interesting things I’ve noticed about my blog today:

1. Oh hey, I wrote my 200th post on this blog the other day and totally forgot about it! If you include my old blog (I used to write at Blogger… it was kind of like living in the projects), I’ve written 290 posts since November 27, 2004. That’s about 45 per year. Not bad, but I wish I had written more and written better.

2. With my recent posts about the Canadian Election (see sidebar for a complete list), my hits from Google have gone way up. Most people have been searching for information on Stephen Harper, particularly related to the Facebook Creeping fiasco. I pretty much tag Stephen Harper and Michael Ignatieff equally, so the fact that people aren’t arriving here by searching for Iggy makes me think a few things:

a) People don’t know anything substantial about Harper’s and the Tories’ (nonexistent) platform and are desperately searching for something. So desperately, that they’ll settle on whatever drek I have to offer.

b) People genuinely like Stephen Harper and are enthusiastically trying to collect as much as possible that’s been written about him. So enthusiastically, that they’ll settle on whatever drek I have to offer.

c) The RCMP is spying on me. No joke – this is a very real possibility.

In any event, that’s where we stand right now with this blog thing.
-J