Not the summer I expected

This summer didn’t go at all how I thought it would.

As response to the war in Gaza plunged campuses and communities further and further into chaos this spring, we spent hours upon hours thinking through how we would create community across difference at camp. We shared a framework for how we expected community members to behave. With support from RootOne, Foundation for Jewish Camp, and The iCenter, we brought in some of the most skilled trainers for our staff. What we found, to our surprise, was that very few staff members wanted to engage. For the most part, our American staff were young and unprepared to deal with the political and emotional realities of post-October 7 Israel. Some of our international staff shared that they thought they shouldn’t say anything pro-Palestinian in a Jewish camp. (How very sad that that’s the message the Jewish community is sending.) And our Israeli staff, while they were grateful for the emotional support we were able to provide, really just didn’t want to talk anymore about the war.

After all the noise of the past year, quiet is what many of our staff – and campers – needed. They needed to get away from the 24-hour news cycle so they could just have fun. They needed not to talk about it, not to struggle with it, not to have it be at the forefront of their minds all the time. As one of our counselors shared: “Just being in a space where they didn’t have to [talk about Israel]; where just because they were Jewish, they weren’t expected to know everything; and they weren’t expected to talk about it if they didn’t want to, was actually such a blessing for [our campers].” Put simply: they needed a break.

That’s not to say we ignored reality.

Before the summer began, we shared a detailed community building framework that modeled for our stakeholders how to center values and relationships, even when we might not always agree. We engaged Resetting the Table to train our staff on how to share their personal stories and how to listen carefully to others in return, especially when it’s not easy. We introduced our campers to Israeli educators who, even more than what they taught in their lessons, helped us understand the importance of being in community this summer, in particular, in visceral ways that were both heartbreaking and inspiring.

And we made space for kids who wanted to dive in. In the middle of the summer, one of our teen campers asked to talk with me. As part of an Olympics-themed program the previous week, we had hung strings of flags around the dining hall and, at some point during the day, someone very carefully rolled up the Palestinian flag so it couldn’t be seen. The camper shared just how upset she was that someone would do this. Without hesitation, I said: “me, too!” I went on to explain that hiding the flag wasn’t at all in keeping with our values and that we chose not to address the situation publicly because we didn’t know who had done it and, also in keeping with our values, we didn’t want to blindly call them out without a better understanding of why they had done so. (This was all about competing priorities: rather than seizing the educational moment in the way we might have in a different year, we focused on the mental, emotional, and social wellbeing of individual campers and staff – and of the community as a whole.) She was shocked. She had been sure that it was my decision to hide the flag – and she was relieved to find that I agreed with her … and that I was open to exploring difficult questions and learning together. She clearly had a view of how Jewish leaders think and act, and my response wasn’t at all what she expected.

If this felt like something of a tikkun (repair) for her, the next moment was one of deep learning for me. As we talked more about the nuances of living through this difficult time, the camper shared that she found it deeply troubling that her American grandparent wore a dog tag to call attention to the hostages being held in Gaza … but it didn’t bother her when her Israeli friend at camp wore one. The former she saw as a political statement, while the latter she understood as clearly personal. I think this was somewhat confusing for her, but it was also a powerful recognition that making Israeli friends helped bring Israel out of the news and into real life; it replaced the politicization of events halfway around the world with one-to-one relationships just a few steps away. More than ever before, it was clear this summer that personal connections like this were – and are – what will make the biggest difference in how our kids understand Israel in this challenging moment. It’s not about what they know; it’s about who they know.

A camper parent reflected that “having Israeli campers in the cabin created a healthy learning environment,” but the real impact was actually much more powerful. Just as strengthening relationship-building skills is a central component of social emotional learning, so too making space for meaningful connections between Israelis and Americans is critical to good Israel education. It’s the part our kids don’t usually get to do at home or in their synagogue, where so much of the focus is on history and politics, which is why mifgashim (peer-to-peer encounters) are such an important part of the teen Israel experience – and why a number of committed donors generously stepped up to help us welcome a group of Israelis to camp this summer. Providing opportunities for kids (and adults!) to build friendships, share stories, and create memories is how we fertilize the ground in which deep, complicated, and sometimes difficult conversations can grow in positive ways.

Heading into the summer, I was sure that any real exploration of Israel in this moment would be filled with challenges. But it turns out that what we really needed to do was the work that so many in the broader community continue to skip over, to their detriment: we needed to lay the groundwork for continued engagement that is ever-more nuanced, personal, and lasting. God willing, the remaining hostages will soon be home, the war will soon be over, and a path towards peace will emerge – and then we can dive deeper into the complexities and challenges of Israel/Palestine and how to productively struggle across difference. This summer, when everything was still so real and so raw, wasn’t yet the time for that next-level work. This summer, as a first-time camper parent shared with us, it just “meant a lot [to their child] to be in a Jewish space.” Without all the heated emotions and hard feelings and heady angst of the months before.

As she left at the end of the summer, one of our Israeli counselors hugged me and said: “Thank you. This was just what we needed.” The space to slow down. To breathe deeply. To be in relationship. To experience Jewish joy. Even though I hadn’t quite expected it, this was, in fact, a summer of much joy – which we so desperately needed after the year we’ve all had. May we find many more opportunities for this kind of connection and community in the days, weeks, and months ahead. And may all those who, like us, are deeply yearning for peace in Israel, in Gaza, and right here at home, soon find the wholeness and joy they so fervently seek and so rightly deserve.