Posts Tagged 'Jewish Education'

From Continuity to Contribution: Beyond Antisemitism

It is astounding to me how much money we spend as a community on Holocaust education. Particularly now with the recent spike in antisemitism in Europe I am sensitive to the need to “never forget”, but do we need to pay for other people to remember?  Let them pay for their own crimes and their feeling of guilt. The Holocaust is clearly part of our memory and history, but so too is the breadth and depth of Jewish literate, art, and culture. No matter what we teach our neighbors they will have to decide for themselves how they want to live. Our primary concern should be how we educate our children. My fear is that we spend more time teaching our children about how we died over and above teaching them how we lived let alone how we might live as Jews. You can disagree with me, but I doubt that a discourse of survival will be compelling to the next generation of North Americans who are growing up in affluence and safely.  So what are we left with?

In this week’s Torah portion, Terumah, we read that God tells Moshe to tell the Israelites, “Let them take for Me a portion, from every man whose heart motivated him you shall take My portion“(Exodus 25:1). The Israelites who had only recently escaped slavery do not limit their expression to preserving the memory of the experience they had in Egypt as we see in the Seder. They communicate their devotion to the Jewish project by making a contribution. Instead of continuity for the sake of continuity they throw themselves into the project of building the Mishkan, Tabernacle. In the contribution we create community. Does God really need a Mishkan? Clearly we did.

There is a certain sanctity in inviting and trusting  people to join the Jewish project. We must throw off the helicopter parent’s urge to prepare the way for the child as compared to preparing the child for the way. Do we trust the next generation to do their part? We need to be open to the fact that there are many ways for people to contribute. While we must stay vigilant about antisemitism we must stay on message and give the next generation the gift of allowing them to contribute in their own way.



Tasty Education

Tonight at dinner we served the kids tofu, sushi rice, and nori.  They love it. It has become one of our weeknight staples. Once we give them little bowls with soy sauce for the dipping they are in heaven.

But at some point Yishama and Yadid made a bit of mess. I asked them to clean it up. Yishama smiled and said that he was making ” Tohu V Vohu. He obviously has started his Genesis unit at school. Without missing a beat Yadid said, ” No you are making a Tofu V Vohu”. I sat for a while basking the depth of all of us sharing a good laugh.

While it is chaotic imagining how we will pay for Jewish education as a family or as a community, there is no mistaking the value of a good Jewish education. Jewish education adds depth to the human experience and it makes life tasty as well.

I am a Jewish farmer- Rabbi Joel Seltzer

– From Recent blog of Rabbi Joel Seltzer on Haaretz.

Twelve years ago, long before I decided to dedicate my life to Jewish education, long before I chose to become a rabbi, I was a counselor for the oldest kids on camps. It was the hardest and most important job of my life.

It was the end of a long eight-week summer at Camp Ramah in the Poconos, and I sat in a gazebo with my Rosh Edah, my division head, in order to process the summer that was.

summer camp Israeli children participating in a summer camp activity in August 2007.
Photo by: Limor Edrey

“I don’t feel like I was successful” I told him. “I don’t think that I transformed the campers into the leaders that I wanted them to be, the Jews that I dreamed they could be, the mensches that I know they can be. Instead,” I admitted, “I feel like I failed them – I was not the transformative educator that I thought I could be.”

My wise division head, now a rabbi himself, simply smiled and said, “You are an idiot.”
“If you think the job of Jewish education can be completed in just eight weeks, or twelve, or even in a year, then you simply do not understand the line of work that we are in.”

“This is not a job where you receive instant gratification,” he explained. “We must be in it for the long haul, and you will have to wait years, even decades, before you can determine whether or not this summer, and your role in it, was a success.”

Long ago someone had told me that Jewish education was like agriculture: you plant seeds in the soil and wait for them to sprout; some do and some do not. Sometimes, despite the right conditions, despite the constant watering and the endless patience of the farmer, the seed simply will not germinate. Other times you can ignore a corner of your field only to discover it later in full bloom. And like a farmer, all an educator can do is wait and wonder what the results of the latest season will be: feast or famine?

Perhaps the Jewish world is now ready to take this metaphor into the twenty-first century. If Jewish education is like agriculture then perhaps we should be ready to apply some of the scientific advances found in the world of farming to our mission as teachers of Torah. Perhaps we should commission soil studies in order to determine where the most fertile ground is to sow our seeds of study. Maybe we should explore ways of digging channels from large bodies of water – like Israel, New York, Chicago and Los Angeles – in order to irrigate the Jewish world that lies in between. Perhaps the time has come to explore subsidies that would help our Jewish educational institutions practice the art of their farming more effectively. If Jewish education is like agriculture, then I am proud to be a farmer – but a modern farmer, one who is willing to explore every available advantage that could allow for a greater, more consistent yield.

The truth is that I often think back to that summer twelve years ago and I think about those campers and where they are now. They are doctors, lawyers, and bankers. They are Jewish educators, artists, musicians and writers. Tragically, two of them are no longer with us: one, a lone soldier in the Israel Defense Forces, was killed in the line of fire in Lebanon, and the other was struck down by an indiscriminant Leukemia. The others are no longer anyone’s campers; instead they are Jewish adults who have celebrated, supported and mourned with one another for the past twelve years.

Just this past Thursday night I was with a few of these former campers at an event celebrating our camp and its past leadership. Suddenly one of them looked down at her phone and whispered some exciting news. “Dara had her baby,” she said, “It’s a girl!” Suddenly, I was transported back to that gazebo twelve years ago and to the wise words of my sage mentor: “You are an idiot.” It was only then that I finally realized that any serious Jewish educator must be a passionate and patient farmer – you can simply never know when the seeds of Torah will sprout.

Rabbi Joel Seltzer is a rabbi at Temple Emanu-El in Providence, R.I., and he was recently named the incoming director of Camp Ramah in the Poconos.

* This is me again.  It gives me joy imagining you sitting in that gazebo for many years to come. And yes Joel, you are still an idiot. But, aren’t we all?

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