Judaism – Page 56

Teachings of the Land

On Feb. 12, at Shaughnessy Heights United Church, there was a dialogue featuring Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan Kaplan, director of Inter-Religious Studies at Vancouver School of Theology, and Rev. Ray Aldred, director of VST’s Indigenous Studies Program. Held under the rubric of Shaughnessy Heights’ Reconciliation Matters initiative, The Teachings of the Land: Our Oldest Relative explored the spiritual relationships between people and land.

Aldred, who is from Treaty 8 territory in northern Alberta, said his understanding of the land has been formed by his Cree upbringing and his life study of indigenous wisdom. Asked about the title of the talk, he said, “For us, the land is part of the family.”

Kaplan spoke of the Jewish people’s connection to the land of their birth, Israel. A self-described “born urbanite,” she also spoke of her personal spiritual connections to the land – hiking in nature or learning from her husband how to grow food – and what she called the “eco-theology” of the Bible.

“The first chapter of Genesis takes us through the creation of an ecology, where everything is interconnected and blessed by the Divine,” she explained. “The first human is called ‘Adam’ in Hebrew, which is not just a random pleasing sound, but comes from adamah, red clay dirt, and means ‘the red clay dirt person,’ the ‘earthling.’ The Hebrew Bible is an indigenous text, which tells us ‘how to walk well on the land,’” she said, using a phrase of Aldred’s. “The Book of Leviticus, for instance, teaches us to consciously let the land rest – the commandment of Shmitah, where the land has rest from farming every seven years. The Hebrew Bible teaches that the ecosystem belongs to God, not to us. It is not ours to come in and displace peoples and animals and to take what we want.”

When Kaplan attended a course of Aldred’s in 2016, she said she realized she was a “rank beginner” in eco-spirituality. “Hunter-gatherers were specialists in sustainability,” she said. “They were not primitive; they are the next level.”

Kaplan also discussed the view of some that First Nations were one of the lost tribes of Israel, a view Aldred had also jokingly referred to earlier. Although lacking historical evidence to support it, commented Kaplan, “it works as a metaphor for a similar history of displacement.”

Aldred made another biblical allusion when speaking about how early Europeans were greeted by some Ojibwe as “Anishinaabe” (which literally means “people”) but they refused the title. “Reminds me of another story about some other people who didn’t want to be what they were created to be, but wanted to be God,” Aldred commented with a grin, referring to the story of Adam and Eve.

Aldred spoke a lot about the need for humility and the renunciation of certainty in order to find a relationship both to land and to other people. “Your perspective is always limited, it is always just ‘your perspective.’ You need other people, other creatures, to learn from. The Creator is giving us an opportunity to learn humility. If we miss that chance,” Aldred warned, alluding again to a biblical text (Leviticus 18:28), “the land will spit you out.”

Asked about practices of connecting to the land, Kaplan suggested learning about the local ecosystem, spending time exploring it and getting to know the unique creatures who inhabit it. She also spoke about connecting to members of one’s own tribe in order to cultivate a sense of home, and about getting to know the indigenous peoples of the area.

Aldred discussed the importance of really listening to the land so we can make better decisions as a community. Noting that Mary was Jesus’ mother, he asked who Adam’s mother was. “The earth was his mother, and the earth cared for him and cares for us.”

Aldred also said that indigenous people reverse Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs, which places basic needs like food and lodging on the bottom and spirituality and community at the top, as being less necessary. “Get your spirituality right,” said Aldred, “and everything else will be right. Take care of your relationship to the land, and take care of your neighbours.”

Asked about the ownership and economic use of land, Aldred said, “We belong to the land, it doesn’t belong to us.” He noted that treaties, in the indigenous understanding, were less about the division of land than about how it should be shared. “Of course, we should enjoy and make use of the gifts of the land,” he said, “but, in our decisions, we should think seven generations ahead – that’s 225 years into the future. That might take a little more time, but it’s worth it to our grandchildren.”

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He writes regularly for the Forward and All That Is Interesting, and has been published in Religion Dispatches, Situate Magazine, Tikkun and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

Blessings of love, religion

Once a month, my husband (a secular humanist Jew) and I (Roman Catholic) join the Fraytik tsu Nakht at the Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture. At the Friday night secular humanist Shabbat celebration, we sing songs, light candles, eat challah bread, and sing in Yiddish and Hebrew. But what I am also learning is the humanistic approach to Jewish cultural heritage.

At the celebrations, they give a great deal of importance, as it says in the text that we read, “to human dignity and the human power to make a better world … and gratitude for the wonders of the world.” Being from a Latin American country, I do not know Yiddish or Hebrew, but I have memorized the lyrics to songs like “Daylanu Shalom” and “Hineh Ma Tov,” so I can sing along with the other people.

When I married Carl, I enjoyed imagining that I was married to a relative of Jesus Christ, since I am practising Catholicism and Jesus is Jewish. We found out that we have more things in common than we imagined. We really enjoy seeing all the similarities and sharing them. For instance, I go with Carl to his Jewish events, where we light candles “to reflect on our own light and the light of others, we praise the healers, the builders and the dreamers. We celebrate the peacemakers, those who teach, who nurture, who love, who share, and those who create for humanity.” At the same time, I have an altar in our room, where I spend time praying the rosary, lighting candles and meditating. Carl comes with me on Sunday to listen to Mass, and is curious for something new, like listening to Mass in Latin, hearing the sermon or just listening to the beautiful music from the pipe organ at Holy Rosary Cathedral, where I belong. Our relationship is based on respect and acceptance, so we can both learn from each other without judgment. Together, we discover that hope is bright and love fills our hearts.

This past year, like every year, we received a phone call from one of Carl’s friends inviting us to his home to celebrate Passover. For me, this means learning more about his culture and imagining how was the Last Supper that Jesus had with his disciples. I love the prayers, the singing and being with good friends who accept me and welcome me, even knowing that I am Catholic, but, above all, I enjoy it because I’m taking part with my husband, who I love.

Carl and I married in a civil ceremony, a Jewish ceremony and in the Catholic Church. We learned that celebrating our differences has made us closer and that religion, far from being a barrier, is a blessing from our Higher Power, however we understand It.

Delta Vazquez Leon has worked part time for Holy Rosary Cathedral for almost four years as an administrative assistant-receptionist. Her mother tongue is Spanish, and she helps Spanish-speaking parishioners in their needs. Some Sundays she assists in the distribution of Holy Communion, and participates in any way she can in Cathedral activities. In her spare time, she likes to write, draw and paint.

“Lost Tribe” in Canada

While I was completing my doctoral work examining the creative expression abilities of seniors with dementia and the therapeutic environment they lived in, I continued working in the Creative Expression Activities Program I had developed. Early in 2000, a group of six Jewish couples who had immigrated to Canada in their later years, asked me to conduct a series of creative expression activities with them. The participants had come from Mexico, South Africa and England to join their adult children and families in Canada. The group named themselves the Lost Tribe, after the Lost Tribes of Israel – the two tribes out of the 12 original biblical tribes that disappeared. The couples lived on the North Shore, away from the main Jewish centres in Vancouver, and strived to build a strong new community based on traditional Jewish Orthodox customs.

The group formed friendships based on common faith, customs, and the challenges of getting older and adjusting to a new country. They faced the potential loss of independence they had worked so hard to attain and the ever-increasing fear of becoming a burden on their adult children. To be successful, they knew they would need to merge the old world with the new. The group met regularly to share their spirituality and serve their social and religious needs. The couples took turns hosting our sessions at their homes and enthusiastically agreed to be filmed and recorded.

The participants were advised that this program was initially developed for seniors living with early to moderate dementia and that it would be adjusted to meet their abilities. The group was curious about the differences I observed of seniors with dementia, and I was happy to share my observations.

The Lost Tribe was a breakaway group from the main synagogue on the North Shore, based on more traditional Jewish observance during services, which members conducted themselves at a private home, occasionally joined by a professional cantor. During the High Holidays, the congregation swelled to 60 worshippers. However, on Friday and Shabbat services, it would shrink back to a handful of people, hardly enough for a minyan, where 10 males need to be present at prayer.

Members of the Lost Tribe were Lilia, late 50s, and Hilario, 65, from Mexico; Jeffrey, 82, and Greta, 72, from England; Aryeh and Rachel, both in their 60s, from Johannesburg, South Africa; Abe and Jean, both in their 70s, from Cape Town, South Africa; Mair from Morocco and Helene, from northern Alberta, Canadian by birth; and Ralph, 70, born in Turkey, who lived half his life in England, half in Canada, and Gillian, 67, who is English but lived half her life in Canada.

Creative expression

The approach to creative expression is based on nursing, psychology, social work, adult education, the arts and architecture. It aims to enhance a sense of fulfilment, personal growth and accomplishment and contributes to the appreciation of the arts in the healing process and in enhancing an individual’s quality of life. The award-winning program includes the visual and performing arts: discussion, poetry, music and dance.

The topics for discussions and the process were discussed in advance. The sessions themselves were loosely guided by me and by the group’s dynamics. Each session lasted for two hours and ended with lunch. Participants took turns providing food and snacks. No cost was involved and my services were free.

I found it remarkable that they were Jews from various corners of the world and, yet, I understood what they were talking about, I could sympathize with them, cry at their sad stories and laugh at their jokes.

As the program progressed and trust grew stronger, I realized I was recording very personal stories that were rich in details, in Jewish philosophy, thoughts on the Jewish religion, on aging and what life is all about. I was taken by surprise by the level of connectedness I felt with these perfect strangers. I noted all the familiar mannerisms, food, songs, beliefs, humour, hand gestures, life stories of great lessons and how we shared the same ethnic identity. I found it remarkable that they were Jews from various corners of the world and, yet, I understood what they were talking about, I could sympathize with them, cry at their sad stories and laugh at their jokes.

The four topics were: philosophical approaches to life based on strength versus weakness; relationships with family members (are we a burden, or is this inevitable as we grow older?); the meaning of being an elderly Jew in Vancouver and in their country of origin, and the impacts of the Holocaust in Europe; and spiritual connection to Israel. Key thoughts were highlighted and categorized into themes to demonstrate that Jewish identity matters, and these values are imbedded in the more general issues of aging, cognitive abilities and family relationships. Here are some of the participants’ thoughts.

Strength and weakness

Ralph: Strength means two things: physical strength and mental strength that goes down as you get older. Physical strength you need to survive. Mental strength is adaptability, which is the greatest thing to me. The other thing is peace. It appears to me that inner peace comes with age….

Aryeh: Unfortunately, we live in a world that there is no place for weakness … and, as we get older, we need to get stronger.

Jeffery: Not everything is strength. I will give you an example. Israel is very strong and she cannot do anything with it. Absolutely nothing….

Rachel: I believe in strength. I [have] always been strong; I [have] always been a strong believer of my faith…. People in Canada are more placid. I became quite placid. You are nowhere unless you fight. That is what I do.

Lilia: Sometimes we need to be weak in order to be strong. Like a huge tree, we need to be flexible.

Gillian: I learned to be strong at a very early age. I was shipped off to a boarding school when I was 9. I was one of four Jewish girls in the whole school and we had to stick together. We were tortured, literally. It helps to get together with others who feel the same way. It was a good lesson. I was a fighter.

Abe: I think we were all born with strength and weaknesses. There are two things that determine strength and the weakness. One is life experiences; the other, the genes that we inherit…. When being passive, it could be a show of inner strength not to react or respond to everything…. It is a delicate balance.

Family relationships

Rachel: Most older people don’t want to be a burden on their children…. The last thing they want to do is to have to live with their children.… But what happens when you are really ill?

Greta: In a twinkle of an eye, my children would look after us, but I feel my children spent many years looking after their children. When they have the freedom to live their lives, I don’t want to be a burden to them…. I like my independence.

Jean: Living with your children does not mean living in their living room.… It can be a suite or a basement and have the best of both worlds.

Abe: We need to look at the following three aspects. The state of our health at any given time, how much assistance we require from different sources, and our state of our finances…. It depends on our relationship with our children and the interplay between the parent and the child.

Aryeh: We all remember most of the 10 commandments but I believe that our children forget more than we did one really important commandment, “honour your parents that your days may be longer on earth that God has given you.” I don’t expect anything from my children. We are living in different times…. One of the concepts in Judaism is that we should be happy with our lot, whatever it is. My mother looked after her parents. It was not a question of a burden; it was accepted in those days.

Gillian: About children – they were not asked to be born. They came, you loved them with all your heart because this is what you do for children, and then you released them to have their own life…. I don’t think they owe you a thing. But, if they want to give you something, you should take it as a bonus.

Ralph: I agree with Gillian. When your children are born, you nurture them. It is an animal thing to do…. The children don’t owe the parents and the parents don’t owe to the children. Those children that want to maintain a relationship … being financial or sheer love, they do it because they want to. I feel that my grandchildren need me as much as I need them.

Being an elderly Jew

Abe: We were fortunate. Our daughter wanted us to come here since she wanted to look after us. We live in their building and we are very happy. Being close to a Jewish community is very important to us…. I was very active in the Jewish community in South Africa, all the time…. It was Orthodox almost 100%. Coming here, I had to adjust to a different set of circumstances.

Gillian: We were delighted to find this group here. We lived in many places in Canada with hardly any Jews around. It is very comforting to have other Jews around. They know your background, they understand your sense of humour. We may have arguments with them, but this is friendship and not cultural differences.

As a young boy, I grew up in the East End of London … in a violently anti-Jewish neighbourhood. So, my religious side is sadly lacking but my right arm was very strong.

Ralph: I am a reformed Jew, not a Reform Jew. Big difference…. I am not a particularly religious Jew, I do not follow all the commandments, as many as I should, but I am a Jew by birth, by faith, and a Jew by outlook. I feel much more comfortable amongst a group of Jews than in a group of non-Jews. As a young boy, I grew up in the East End of London … in a violently anti-Jewish neighbourhood. So, my religious side is sadly lacking but my right arm was very strong.

Rachel: When I was younger, I was like all mothers, I dropped off my children at the synagogue and did not go in myself and, as I became older, I became more Jewish…. Unfortunately, when we came here, there is not much Jewishness here, living on the North Shore…. Coming here, I realized what I had there and I missed it.

Greta: When I grew up, we moved to another Jewish area, probably the biggest Jewish community in London. Everywhere you went it was Jewishness, if you wanted it or not. I did want it…. It is not enough Jewish here like it was back home in London. We imparted our Jewishness with my children and they with their children. Amen.

Connection to Israel

Jean: Israel makes me proud because Israel is a country that belongs to all Jews. We can all go there any time and it is our country and it makes [us] grateful and proud. Also, it is a great source of comfort to know that it is there and, because it is there, we have got a much better standing in the world: we are not again [a] homeless, wandering people. And this tiny, tiny, little country has accomplished the greatest things, great discoveries, experiments and scientific things, winning wars. Phenomenal what this country has done, and that is why I appreciate having it as my country.

Aryeh: Having Israel is certainly one of the miracles. Going through the Holocaust, [approximately 40%] of the Jews worldwide were being destroyed, and then getting a country is unbelievable, and having to fight for this country. Israel hands us dignity.… One of the things for the messianic era is that we all will be gathered back to Israel…. The fact that America is a great ally of Israel is another modern-day miracle. Imagine if they were not.

Jean: I don’t have any dramatic stories. For me, Israel means a spiritual reality that will always exist…. Israel is the very framework for our civilization.

Greta: When Israel became a state, we were thrilled we finally at last have a country. Jews could hold their heads up when, prior to that, only a certain number of Jews could go to universities, antisemitism was everywhere. It changed a lot of things. Jews started to blossom where they were not allowed to [before]…. What I don’t understand – why the world feels sorry for what the Palestinians are going through, totally ignoring what the Jews are going through. If, God forbid, Israel did not exist, it would be the biggest tragedy that happened to the Jews.

Gillian: Israel, for me, is a beacon of light in a very darkening world. Like Greta, I was born in England, a granddaughter to Russians Jews. I was raised to put the pennies in the blue box for Israel to buy land. As I got older, I was sent to a boarding school, where I encountered for the first time really bad antisemitism…. If things got bad in Canada, we know we would have a home there. We need to protect them and we know they will protect us…. There must be always an Israel and it is up to us to make sure it always exists.

Ralph: I come from a community that up to 1939 really did not experience antisemitism for hundreds of years. A state of Israel was more in the religious context than the emotional context…. Israel since then became part of my life and being in many, many ways. I regret we did not go to Israel, partially from fear of not knowing the language, ignorance. By then, I had a wife and two small children and we needed to eat and pay the rent…. I walk with my head up, held high, because there are kids with guns in Israel. In my early years, one of the antisemitic thorns was why don’t you go back to where you came from, bloody kike? There was no place. Where could I go? From one part of London to the other. Today, there is [Israel].

I am pleased to be over 70 years old for one important reason, so I was old enough to understand what was going on when Israel was established as a state in 1948.

Abe: To me, Israel is about the most unique country in the world…. It is the modern-day realization of biblical prophesy…. I am pleased to be over 70 years old for one important reason, so I was old enough to understand what was going on when Israel was established as a state in 1948. Many, many Jews today did not go through this experience…. This was the first wave of emotion that swept me away, I just could not believe it was happening. The second time the importance of Israel to me came to the front was one week before the 1967 war. We were all sitting and praying and fearing for the annihilation of the state of Israel. How can Israel exist as she was ready to be attacked by the armies of three Arab countries: Syria, Egypt and Jordan?… Then came the Six Day War. We won wonderfully, Jerusalem was reunited. I just broke down in absolute tears…. And the third time was in 1976, when Israel conducted a raid on Entebbe, when Israel went out of its way to save Jews…. It brought home to me how terribly important the existence of Israel and its continuity is in all of us.

The tribe disbands

Eventually, two couples and their families succumbed to the attraction of joining a stronger Orthodox Jewish community and moved to Vancouver. Their move was hastened by an earlier breakdown in the group, resulting from disagreements about approach – should it be more liberal and embrace the Conservative way, or stay with the Orthodox approach. Other issues crept in – health problems, for example – and the group fell apart.

The experience with the Lost Tribe was emotionally therapeutic for all of us. This group did not differ from seniors of other cultures: staying engaged with others, coping with changes, maintaining physical, mental and financial health and learning were crucial for successful aging. Opportunities to practise religion, faith and spirituality were specifically important in coping with difficult situations. Although the seniors felt the sessions were rewarding and looked forward to each activity, tensions stemming from philosophical differences in Jewish worship and group dynamics contributed to the group’s demise after one year.

Dalia Gottlieb-Tanaka, PhD, chair of the Society for the Arts in Dementia Care, earned her PhD (2006) and post-doctorate (2011) from the University of British Columbia, and is a graduate of the Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design, Jerusalem. She developed the Creative Expression Activities Program for seniors with dementia, which won an award from the American Society on Aging and the MetLife Foundation, and continues to give presentations in the United States, Canada, Israel and Europe.

Jewish life in the Okanagan

The Okanagan Jewish community’s Chanukah celebration Dec. 12. (photos from OJCA)

The Okanagan Jewish community has had an active last few months. Services were held Dec. 9 and 10, led by Rabbi Shaul Osadchey, as well as Jan. 20 and 21, led by Cantor Russell Jayne. Each of the morning services was followed by a potluck luncheon, giving community members an opportunity to socialize.

The OJC has been fortunate to have services throughout the year conducted by Osadchey and Jayne from Calgary and, in their absence, OJC members Evan Orloff and Steven Finkleman. This has brought members together and helped strengthen their faith and deepen community connections.

A Chanukah celebration was held on Dec. 12, well before the holiday, because many families planned to be away during winter break. At the party, there were songs, dreidels and the lighting of menorot. Sufganiyot were served and there was Chanukah gelt for the children.

On Dec. 17, a Chanukah and holiday baking class was led by OJC member Barb Finkleman, and sufganiyot and latkes were made. These classes have become a regular event and another was held Feb. 4, with OJC member Philippe Richer LaFleche assisting Finkleman. In the February session, they made chocolate babka and vegetarian Indian food.

In other community news, mazal tov to the Finkleman family on the birth of Jeremy and Mahla’s new baby boy – Lev is a baby brother for “big sister” Shiri. The naming and bris took place in Vancouver.

Also, the community thanks Len and Faigel Shapiro for funding new tallitot and for a new custom-made tallit holder in memory of Sam Larry. The holder is now on wheels and can be easily moved to the entrance for services.

Thank you to Marv Segal, Riaz Mamdani and Steve Itzcovitch for, once again, sponsoring the brunch for this year’s OJC Golf Classic. Plans for this year’s tournament are well underway. Since it will be the event’s 20th anniversary, the OJC is trying to make it the biggest and best ever. As always, the entire B.C. Jewish community is invited to participate on July 23, which will be a fun-filled day of golf and socializing. To register, visit ojcc.ca. For more information or sponsorship opportunities, contact Mark Golbey (250-868-1782 or [email protected]) or David Spevakow (250-317-5283 or [email protected]).

Finally, this year’s OJC Passover seder will be held on April 10 at the Harvest Golf Club. For more information or to RSVP, contact Spevakow.

More than a mere contract

An outer space-themed ketubah designed by thisisnotaketubah.com.

Judging from its ritual text, the ketubah (marriage contract) that is read aloud during a Jewish wedding ceremony isn’t the most exciting, romantic or joyous document. It spells out a husband’s fundamental Jewish legal obligations to his wife – food, clothing, conjugal rights – and guarantees the sum that the husband will pay his wife in the event of a divorce. Yet, increasingly, today’s ketubah designs are anything but dry and transactional. Going beyond placing a plain document in a basic picture frame, or using common designs such as a view of Jerusalem or the kabbalistic Tree of Life, ketubah artists and consumers alike are developing more elaborate and personalized tastes.

Morgan Friedman, chairman and “lead muse” of thisisnotaketubah.com, calls his initiative “the first company to do outlandish ketubot,” starting in 2011. Friedman said he “wanted a ketubah with super-crazy modern art” leading up to his wedding in 2010, but couldn’t find one. He approached his wife-to-be’s friend, Argentine artist Yael Magenheim, and she designed a ketubah to match his wedding, whose theme was the colour orange. Today, Magenheim is the artistic director for thisisnotaketubah.com, which has created 3,000 ketubot to date. Most customers order designs that the website already offers, but Friedman has a separate site, bespokeketubah.com, featuring commissioned artworks.

“My official reaction and what I tell [customers] is, ‘Whatever makes you happy.’ What makes the world a wonderful place is that different people have different preferences,” Buenos Aires-based Friedman told JNS.org, reflecting on some unique ketubot he has designed, such as one commissioned for a dragon-loving couple who are Game of Thrones fans.

Adriana Saipe was also inspired to enter the ketubah art business through the process of designing her own ketubah, in 2013. For customized ketubot – which make up 20% of her business on inkwithintent.com, the rest coming from existing designs – the Vermont-based artist said she often starts “with a place that has significance” for the couple. She asks them questions like where they met, where they’re living and where they’ve traveled together. For instance, one ketubah the artist is currently working on features landscapes from Miami, Pittsburgh and Providence, three cities where the couple has lived.

Saipe also hides “little secrets” in her designs. In a ketubah for a couple that enjoys rowing, she added boathouses along a river amid a nighttime Philadelphia cityscape; the average observer might not notice the small boathouses, but they are there for the couple to appreciate, Saipe explained, describing this design choice as the difference between the “outer layer that’s art on the wall” and the “inner story for the couple.”

Although Friedman cites 2011 as the advent of the “outlandish” ketubah, other artists estimate that elaborate, unique or customized ketubot were popularized at least two decades ago.

“The current trend to have modern art ketubahs began around the end of the 1990s,” said San Antonio-based artist Nishima Kaplan, who runs artketubah.com. “I was one of the first few artists to be involved in this trend, which was customer-driven. In the 1990s, the technology didn’t allow for just-in-time ketubah prints, so people who wanted an artistic piece with a unique text had to commission a handmade piece. I made a lot of these in the early 2000s. Now, there is such a wide selection of artistic designs on the internet that can be ordered with any text, so there is less demand for handmade pieces that are artistic but not personal, the unique designs that reflect a couple’s life continue to be desired.”

Jerusalem-based artist Danny Azoulay took up ketubah design nearly 20 years ago, when Israel’s tourism minister asked him to design award certificates for companies slated to be named as the top 50 businesses for tourism in the Jewish state. At least 10 people who saw examples of the certificates in Azoulay’s store commented that they would make for compelling ketubot, prompting the artist to pursue that niche.

Azoulay, who runs ketubahazoulayart.com, recalled that, when he first began designing ketubot, most Judaica production took place in China and India, where manufacturing costs are lower than they are in Israel. He understood that he couldn’t compete with sellers of standard mass-produced Judaica items, and needed a niche such as the ketubah. Simultaneously, more customers were asking him to produce commissioned ketubot.

Saipe, who has produced about 1,000 ketubot, said that, based on her conversations with consumers of various ages, the trend of elaborate designs began “somewhere between the 1980s and 2000.”

“There’s a really interesting dichotomy among ketubah artists themselves,” she said, noting that, on the one hand, there are “well-established” artists who produce ketubot with a classic old-world feel, and, on the other hand, there has been the emergence during the last five years of “contemporary” artists who employ “modern symbolism and modern times” in their designs.

What’s the reason behind the trend? The artists agree that customized ketubot are simply indicative of the popularity of personalized art in general, in addition to reflecting the personalization of various aspects of weddings.

“Everyone loves personalized art. This is not a new thing,” said Kaplan, who has created more than 3,000 ketubot since 1998. That said, some couples’ desire to alter and personalize the ketubah’s age-old Aramaic ritual text may also play a role in the trend of commissioned designs, she said.

“Once a couple begins thinking about a text they want that is different from the traditional one on their parents’ ketubah, it may be a natural next step to wanting an art ketubah,” said Kaplan.

Read more at jns.org.

Chatting with my father’s G-d

I am 69 years old and I have been living with multiple sclerosis for the last 29 years. During that time, my disability has affected my spirituality, and vice versa.

I grew up with Orthodox Jewish maternal grandparents in the same house as my less-than-Orthodox parents. Spirituality is about love if it is about anything, and my earliest memories of spiritual experience are all tied up with my love for my grandfather and his for me.

I was very close to my grandfather, Shmuel (Samuel) Silberberg. He died when I was 12, but until then, for as long as I can remember, I sat with him in the synagogue in the rows closest to the ark. There was a sense of belonging – those old guys were connected. Looking back, it is funny that I had a strong sense of belonging where I definitely did not belong. Young girls were not wanted there. But my grandfather belonged, and it was clear to all that he thought I belonged with him. He was not argued with. Even my father, Moishe (Morris) Novik, sat with the other 50 regular guys in the middle toward the back. He sat where he belonged, which was not up front with me and the old guys.

After my grandfather died, there was no more sitting with the old guys in the synagogue. I got sent upstairs to sit with my mother and the rest of the women. It just wasn’t the same. There was one row of old women who had that aura of belonging, but the other women were chatting or moving around. My connection to Judaism drifted away.

Around 1978, I went to visit my parents in New York. To my chagrin, I realized that my children, ages 8 and 6, knew nothing about being Jewish and knew plenty about Christianity. Oops. If I didn’t give them a sense of being Jewish, our dominant Christian culture would move in. When I returned to Vancouver, I searched for a place our family would fit. For a single, lesbian, politically active welfare mother, this wasn’t easy. But the children and I persevered, and we found the Peretz Shul (officially the Peretz Centre), a progressive secular Jewish place of education and culture. Our Jewish identity was saved – we had an anchor. I came to see spirituality as the sense of belonging that I remembered and that I needed for my children. Every Sunday I took them to the Jewish school and, once a month, there was a potluck lunch following. The kids had secular bar and b’nai mitzvah, and all was well.

By 1988, the woods and physical movement were my spirituality. My son had moved out on his own and my daughter was staying with family in California, so I hiked, cross-country skied, and spent time in British Columbia’s backcountry. The woods and mountains were my holy places, my grounding and my anchor. I found it impossible to wander in the beauty and not feel in every fibre of my body that I was part of something so much bigger than I.

Enter primary progressive multiple sclerosis. In this type of MS, disability gets steadily worse, without pause or remission. And my world was – and is – turned upside down. In the midst of this chaos and uncertainty, where was my anchor now?

In 1989, I took a medical leave from the travel agency I owned and moved to an A-frame home on friends’ property in Mission, B.C. No electricity, no running water. I chopped lots of wood. My MS moved slowly. I could happily live in the bush while trying to sort out what it all meant. I was blessed to find a weekly aboriginal healing circle, through the Mission Indian Friendship Centre, that warmly welcomed and grounded me.

Back on the farm, I walked with the dogs to the waterfall and talked to G-d, the G-d who was and is very much my father’s G-d. He had a personal relationship with G-d and, as a kid, I learned from watching him. When we went to the cemetery, he chatted with his dad and mom. He would stand by their graves and have long, friendly conversations, and I would watch with awe how the talks were never solemn, just friendly and intimate. When he was done, he would always ask if I had anything to add. I would shake my head and he would smile. There was never any pressure that I should talk.

The important lesson I learned was that it is OK to talk to dead people. And they will listen – they are interested. I spoke about this lesson at my father’s funeral. When one of my children or I had a problem, some people would say, “I’ll pray for you.” My dad would say, “I’ll talk to my friend upstairs for you.” He was just a regular guy who spoke about his friend upstairs in the way he would talk about any neighbour. For me, as a child and even now, this relationship is soothing and comforting.

With the chaos that MS brings to my life, sometimes a breakthrough comes when I can step back from the insurmountable roadblocks and see them instead as stepping stones on my path. This is difficult for me. My first impulse is to kick, scream and deny every new loss. Yet it is crucial to see the stepping stones so I can move forward. I remember that from hiking.

In 1990, I was back on my porch in Vancouver and missing the aboriginal healing circle. I thought, “Wait, I have my own ritual.” Around this time, my son, who had just become a father, said, “Mom, it’s time to go to synagogue.” And I said, “I know where to go.” We went to Or Shalom, where I found much grounding and a sense of community. I told a friend at Or Shalom that I hadn’t been to synagogue in 30 years. She just said, “Welcome home.” And home it was to me, my son and my granddaughter. Over the years, people have asked, “How did you manage to get your son to come to synagogue?” And I tell them it was his idea.

A few years later, in 1994, I wanted a way back to the woods. I had heard of therapeutic horseback riding, and I thought that, with the horses, I could get there. My first lesson, just 10 minutes of riding, felt great. I was convinced that this was going to sort out my hip joints, legs and back. That happened, and the surprise was that my soul and psyche were also woken up. I always felt like I had just done something grand. I, who don’t often feel proud of myself, suddenly felt quite proud for getting on this obstinate horse, Brew. He was an elderly, beautiful chestnut gelding. But strong-willed, like me. Before I got on a horse, I would always have a minute where I thought, I am insane to climb all the way up there. But, as soon as I got up there, I felt wonderfully alive. The day I rode Visteria, a big 16-hand chestnut mare with an amazingly smooth walk, it was like gliding along on top of the world. My hips unlocked and I felt my spirit rising.

For a few years, those horses were my anchor, my connection and my strength. Riding gave me back the joy of moving. I began to realize again how much my sense of spirituality was connected to physical movement. Hiking, long walks, swimming and horseback riding put me in a place where I could be connected to G-d, where I could feel myself part of a larger whole. But, with MS, there was one loss after another. I went through several aids: cane, then walker, then scooter, then horses.

Before the MS diagnosis and the losses in mobility, did I talk to G-d? Not much. The first conversations I remember happened in my year in Mission, during my daily hikes to the waterfall, with G-d and the dogs my daily company.

Now, with my mobility much more compromised, I still find G-d time where I can. The conversations now centre on “meaning.” What does this new life mean? What am I supposed to be doing? And so often G-d answers, “Go write.” I complain about the endless health maintenance that leaves so short a day, and G-d answers, as she always has, “Go write.”

Can I say exactly where spirituality is in my life and what it means for me? I am still a tad confused. Primary progressive MS slowly and persistently takes stuff away, so, in the 29 years of the illness, I have reinvented myself over and over and over again. The long hikes are just a memory, and I don’t often get out of my house to my synagogue anymore. Now that my physical movement is so limited, will I find a way to grow more spiritually?

Still, when I need spiritual guidance, I ask my father to talk to his friend upstairs. My father smiles and says, “You can talk yourself now, you know.” We both know that I do have my own conversations. But I still like using him as my go-between.

Ellen Frank was a writer, activist, mother, grandmother and retired travel agent, author of Sticks and Wheels: A Guide to Accessible Travel on the Lower Sunshine Coast (Ouzel Publishing, 2006), Taking the Reins (Kindle, 2011) and several articles published in anthologies and in periodicals, including the Jewish Independent. She lived with primary progressive multiple sclerosis from 1988 to her death in January 2017.

Is America part of a divine plan?

In The American Miracle, Michael Medved argues that the success of the United States is not based on random “happy accidents.”

Early America’s historical events could be seen as a set of dominoes falling conveniently into place, creating a thriving free and democratic nation, but Michael Medved believes there’s a divine hand that helped.

The Jewish nationally syndicated radio show host has just published his 13th book, The American Miracle: Divine Providence in the Rise of the Republic (Crown Forum, 2016), describing a dozen incidents from the 1580s to the American Civil War, in which a moment of crisis was successfully resolved, against great odds, and seemingly by chance.

photo - Michael Medved — Michael Medved *(photo from twitter.com/medvedshow)*

“I think this is the first time someone has approached it from this angle,” he told the Independent. “The best explanation for the emergence of the United States as the dominant economic, military, even cultural power in the world … is not a pattern of happy accidents, because a pattern of happy accidents is still a pattern. The evidence, it seems to me, suggests very strongly that America is a product of intelligent design.”

One of Medved’s examples is that of Abraham Lincoln surviving six assassination attempts, with the seventh and final one coming only after he freed the slaves. Another such occurrence, according to Medved, involves Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s battle plans, which were etched on a cigar wrapper cover, discarded unknowingly by one of his infantry and later found by a Unionist soldier, radically turning the tide of the war and saving the union.

Additionally, writes Medved, Napoleon Bonaparte was to take command and possession of Louisiana to protect it against the British, but the harbour uncharacteristically froze over on that April day. It was part of a series of events that led the French conqueror to cede land four times the size of France to the Americans – later called the Louisiana Purchase – for the paltry sum of a penny an acre.

“With the United States – and with the modern state of Israel – there are clear moments of creation reflecting acts of will and providential acts of will,” he said. “It’s not based on tribe or blood or place of birth. It’s based on conscious decisions by generations of people to be part of this endeavour, and that makes the United States and Israel completely distinct from every other country on earth. It’s a much stronger argument for design rather than evolution.”

Medved’s other books have covered American themes as well, including The Ten Big Lies About America; The Shadow Presidents, a history of White House chiefs of staff; and Right Turns, an autobiography covering his path to becoming a conservative.

Part of the reason why he penned this recent book was not only to show that America’s founding had, as he sees it, a little help from above and has changed the world for the better, but “because we have lost that sense America is miraculous and astonishing,” he said.

“If you don’t look at America as providing grounds for gratitude, then you will look at America as providing grounds for guilt, and that is what our education system emphasizes now: we slaughtered native Americans, we exploited African slaves, we oppressed workers and we enslaved women.

“We’ve taken the heroism out of it, taken the nobility out of it,” he said. “We’ve taken the purpose out of it – and America is about nothing if it’s not about a sense of purpose.”

As to why America has been so particularly blessed, Medved posits a theory: the Founding Fathers were philosemites.

“John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, George Washington, believed that one of the reasons for America’s distinctive blessings can be found in Genesis, Chapter 12, verse 3,” he said, explaining the section where God says He will bless those who bless Jews, and curse those who curse Jews.

In fact, he added, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin worked together to create what they hoped would be the great seal of the United States, featuring an image of Moses leading the people across the Red Sea.

“The founders themselves,” he said, “insisted that they were the instruments, rather than the authors, of the design.”

Dave Gordon is a Toronto-based freelance writer whose work has appeared in more than 100 publications around the world.

Jewish ethics and surrogacy

(Spikebrennan via Wikimedia Commons)

The subject of surrogacy has been examined by Jewish scholars, mainly rabbis, for thousands of years. The Jewish belief system of ethical values incorporates two independent and seemingly disparate thoughts. The first is the obligation to be fruitful and multiply and to fill the earth, and the second is the obligation to free the captives, to actively engage in the redemption of those who are enslaved. In modern context, to free the captives is the fight to end human trafficking, and surrogacy has been identified as a form of human trafficking. An examination of how these two elements of Jewish core beliefs, once given ethical attributes, interface can hopefully open discussion in the Jewish community.

Genesis 1:28 commands us be fertile and increase. Jewish tradition considers it to be the first of the 613 commandments of the Torah. Again, after the flood, Noah is enjoined, in Genesis 9:1, to be fruitful and multiply. In this context, it stands for regeneration of life after death-dealing disasters.

In biblical times, infertility or barrenness in women spoke to, among other things, the values and concerns of an agrarian society requiring manpower to work the land and tend to the flocks. The need to people the land and have heirs to inherit property was of great importance. Adoption and polygamy were acceptable practices. The Jewish matriarchs, Sarah, Rebekah and Rachel, all were infertile prior to God’s intercession. The significance of having a child was so valued that the Divine presence saw to the continuation of the lineage. Handmaids bore children, fathered by the patriarchs, when their wives suffered from infertility. The surrogates for the biblical matriarchs bore the children; however, as the Bible stories tell us, relational conflicts ensued.

Jewish tradition finds connection from one mitzvah to another, from one transgression to the next. How does this fit with the subject of surrogacy and how it is perceived today? Surrogacy can certainly be a dimension of human trafficking, a form of modern-day slavery where people profit from the control and exploitation of others. As defined by Canadian federal laws, victims of human trafficking include children involved in the sex trade, adults aged 18 or over who are coerced or deceived into commercial sex acts, and anyone forced into different forms of “labour or services,” such as domestic workers held in a home or farm workers forced to labour against their will. In many countries, the practice of commercial surrogacy can be indistinguishable from the buying and selling of children, and meets the criteria of human trafficking.

Altruistic or compassionate surrogacy is legal in Canada, but it is definitely illegal to pay a surrogate mother for her services. The Assisted Human Reproduction Act prohibits the provision or acceptance of financial consideration to a woman for acting as a surrogate. However, it is legal to reimburse a surrogate mother for her reasonable expenses incurred as a result of surrogacy. In the province of Quebec, the Quebec Civil Code has not allowed for surrogacy agreements. Recent case law has changed the rights for couples to engage in surrogacy agreements, paving the way for legislative change in the future.

Jewish law has been forced to evolve as reproductive technologies have impacted family, parent(s) and child(ren). Rabbinical authorities have had to apply halachic analysis and interpretation to modern technologies including reproductive technology. Since the 1970s, there has been discussion, starting with the subject of artificial insemination. Sperm donation, ovum donation and surrogacy are the three ways for an infertile couple to become parents. Legal contractual obligations are undertaken.

Opposition to surrogacy was raised by Rabbi Immanuel Jacovits, chief rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth from 1976 to 1991. In his 1975 publication Jewish Medical Ethics, he argued that to use another person as an incubator and then take from her the child that she carried and delivered for a fee is a revolting degradation of maternity and an affront to human dignity. It is not the technology that concerned him; rather, the social and ethical implications of the act of medical reproductive intervention.

In 1977, Rabbi Elie Kaplan Spitz acknowledged that ethical problems can arise with surrogacy when the offspring has no relationship with its birth mother. The status and rights of a surrogate vary among geographical localities based on the laws of the land which, increasingly, form the basis of rabbinical discourse.

The Committee on Jewish Laws and Standards of the Rabbinical Assembly provides guidance to the Conservative Jewish movement in matters of halachah. In 1984, Rabbi David Lincoln’s guidance was accepted, citing surrogacy as a “mitzvah-blessing so great that we should not deny couples of this opportunity.” By 1988, the committee concluded that the mitzvah of parenthood is so great that ovum surrogacy was permissible.

Rabbi Prof. Aaron Mackler offered his opinion that surrogacy could not be recommended, as he believed that maternal status is determined by gestation and birth, and that the danger of commodification of the child is real and present. His thoughts are echoed by Rabbi Prof. David Golinkin who, in a response published by the Schechter Institutes in 2012, redirected childless couples to adoption. He stated, “anyone who raises an orphan in his home, Scripture considers it as if he has given birth to that child.”

Many Jewish women in the latter part of the last century, in response to the Holocaust, felt an added incentive to be fruitful, like Noah’s kin in biblical times, in order to create a continuance of their ethnic identity. Therefore, Jewish women could be cast in the role of breeders whose purpose was the security of the Jewish ethnic identity. It is possible that the fear of annihilation created a psychological response that welcomed any safe method of family creation. It is also possible that this fear is now embedded in the Jewish community’s psyche as a modern response to fulfilling the biblical injunction. As such, there might be a greater willingness for women to look for alternative methods of family creation. Being fruitful so that your family will continue now speaks to procreation through natural family births, adoption and surrogacy.

It can seem problematic to apply the label of exploitation to any part of the surrogacy agreement. In commercial surrogacy, the birth mother receives a commission for her service, beyond her health-care, lodgings and clothing expenses and potential lost income. Is there any coercion for these mainly middle-class women to engage in surrogacy for financial rewards (not financial needs)? However, what needs recognition by Canadians is the state of surrogacy around the world. There is much cruelty and abuse resulting in significant pain and suffering of birth mothers. Baby-breeding farms do exist. International surrogacy agreements dissolve, leaving newborns stateless.

There is a body of literature that recognizes attachment issues for the gestational surrogate mother to her birth child. Developing an emotional bond with a baby during pregnancy, knowing that, after birth, all contact and rights will be relinquished can cause psychological distress. During the nine months of gestation, the birth mother bonds with and becomes emotionally attached to the baby growing inside her. This is a normative emotional response and it is in conflict with the rational understanding of the surrogacy process.

Jewish law recognizes the birth mother as the legal mother. Although this status can be waived and national laws allow for the transfer of newborn children through legal contractual vehicles, ethical and moral consideration should be given to the surrogate. It is fundamental, as a Jewish value, to care for those in need. If the surrogate has unresolved needs after giving birth, they should be acknowledged and resolved, as she is not only a production vessel. Is there a mechanism to ensure that the surrogate is not trapped or enslaved in a state of ongoing post-partum depression? Education for the new parents, as a component of the contract, on the surrogate’s needs beyond the physical could have value. Judaism recognizes women as equal to men in the eyes of God, according to the Torah. Valuing the birth mother will assure a fair process.

Addressing the subjects of infertility and parenthood in today’s context brings forward the changing demographics of families, their structure and roles. Indeed, the definitions of family, marriage, spouse, men’s and women’s rights and obligations within the family have made a paradigm shift. Now, same-sex Jewish couples and single people can choose surrogacy as a method of family development. Rabbis’ seeming silence on this issue is, to some, a problem, as they see the rabbis as having acquiesced to the law of the land in regards to the legitimacy of surrogacy.

Surrogacy in our North American context appears to be a mainly benign and favourable solution for those who want to create or enlarge their families. Still, caution must be taken when embarking on this process of family creation to ensure that there is no pressure from external interest bodies on any parties in the surrogacy relationship. Consideration of the potentially negative aspects of surrogacy needs to come into play in decision-making. Both those wanting a child and the surrogate need to be protected from undue influence and to be provided with appropriate supports.

Surrogacy has become an accepted form of reproductive technology in our modern Jewish life. Denial of its worth is not an option. The ethical values discussed by Maimonides, a great halachic scholar, philosopher and physician who lived in the 12th century, hold true today. He talks about behaviours that need modification, balance and examination for the individual to reach a virtuous state: “In truth, it is the middle way that should be praised.” His guidance is worthy of due consideration. Surrogacy, as a process for the creation of a Jewish family, must be undertaken with a full understanding that the path to be taken has ethical complexities that need to be considered before the journey starts.

Marni Besser is a consultant to National Council of Jewish Women of Canada, human trafficking file.

Why Jewish camp matters

The most frequently used words by alumni answering the question “What does Camp Miriam mean to you?” The larger the word, the more frequently it was used. As with other Jewish camps, “Jewish” and “identity” are the most common responses. (from campmiriam.org/home/about/our-impact)

As a director at JCC Chicago’s Camp Chi, I often found it difficult to know with much certainty if our goals and mission were being met. Sure, I knew that campers were having a lot of fun, trying new things and forming friendships, but what about the deeper connections or personal growth?

Satisfaction surveys and return rates demonstrate one type of success, but these measurements don’t get to the heart of what we want kids to take away from their camp experiences.

I saw firsthand last summer that this challenge is even more true at day camp, where campers often don’t have the maturity or verbal expression skills to accurately share their feelings. By spending a minute at any of the nine JCC Chicago day camps, you know that campers are having the time of their lives, but how do we know if we are meeting or exceeding what we want to be the positive impact of camp or, more precisely, the positive impact of Jewish camp.

We found the answer to this question in a surprising way. Towards the end of the summer, as part of a larger project, we asked JCC Chicago day campers to complete this sentence: “It’s not just camp. It’s _______.”

Using markers and crayons, words and pictures, campers shared – often with creative spelling – what camp “is” to them. Among responses that ranged from reflective to silly, we discovered a number of answers that highlighted the distinctive elements of Jewish camp. Campers wrote: Jewish memories … Shabbat … family … Jewish tradition … Maccabi games … inspiration … Jewish … community … Israel experience … a chance to show yourself … kindness … Shabbat singing … JCC.

With an opportunity to write anything they wanted about camp, many of our campers chose to express what was meaningful to their Jewish identity and Jewish experience. These ideas were surrounded by other words and phrases, such as swimming, home sweet home, soccer, awesomeness, my happy place, fantastic, best part of the year, friends, painting and love.

screenshot - Screenshot from a 2014 Camp Solomon Schechter promotional video. While swimming and other secular activities engage campers, so do Shabbat and Israel — Screenshot from a 2014 Camp Solomon Schechter promotional video. While swimming and other secular activities engage campers, so do Shabbat and Israel. *(from youtube.com)*

Seeing this better defined for me, more than any research study, why Jewish camp matters. The melding of Jewish rituals, ideas and activities with the excitement that naturally happens at camp is the real magic of Jewish camp. Swimming was a dominant theme with our day campers, but so was Shabbat and Israel. Campers related “Jewish” alongside fun, joy, comfort and belonging.

This reminded me of something I experienced in the months leading up to my first summer working at Camp Chi. I met with small groups of campers and staff to get the real scoop on the camp. I asked all of them to tell me their favourite part of camp. Almost always the answer was “Shabbat.”

Not having attended Jewish camp as a child, I thought this was an odd response at a camp with outstanding facilities and activities. I would have expected “horseback riding” or “water skiing” or even “my friends,” but, instead, I heard about how connected they felt to the Jewish community or their “Jewishness” when at camp.

What our day and overnight campers told us is so much more than just words on paper or stories to be shared. There is incredible power in this positive relationship to Judaism that campers make while at Jewish camp. At JCC Chicago day and overnight camps, being Jewish is fun, accessible, relaxed, just like almost everything else that takes place there. In their own ways, our campers, from the youngest to the oldest, expressed that “Jewish at camp” has meaning and importance to them; it’s part of what makes camp and their camp experiences so special.

As adults, we can see that their words and stories are evidence that the seeds of Jewish connection are planted throughout the summer. The potential impact of Jewish camp is tremendous. It sets the stage for a lifetime of sense of belonging to a Jewish community, a relationship with Jewish traditions, a feeling of pride in Jewish identity and an understanding of values.

It’s not just camp. It’s the start of a lifelong Jewish journey and so much more.

Jamie Lake is marketing manager of JCC Camping. This article is reprinted with permission from JUF News. It can be found at juf.org/news/local.aspx?id=440848.

Camp’s Jewish warmth

Climbing at Camp Kalsman. Kids will come home from camp laden with good memories. (photo from campkalsman.org)

My son left for camp a few weeks ago and, try as I might, I cannot quell the heartache at his absence.

At 11, he is independent and outgoing, with a gentle disposition and a winning smile. Every day, he pauses to wrap me in a long embrace, regardless of the battles we have fought over homework, “screen time” in front of the computer and TV, and our ongoing feud over why he has no iPod. “Everyone I know has one,” he insists.

He fights a good battle, my son, and I miss our exchanges – both the affectionate ones and the “you’re so unfair” ones – while the reins of control are in the hands of his camp counselors for 18 days.

photo - Children on the dock at Camp Hatikvah, 1976. Though the writer’s camp experience occurred on a different continent and in a different generation, Jewish overnight camp changed her life — Children on the dock at Camp Hatikvah, 1976. Though the writer’s camp experience occurred on a different continent and in a different generation, Jewish overnight camp changed her life. *(photo from JMABC L.09597)*

I know his time away will be exceptional and that he will return home laden with good memories. His days and nights will be full of campfires, Jewish songs, new friends and exhilarating zip lines through the treetops. He will forget to change his underwear for far too long, spend every day in a swimsuit and leave the sunscreen untouched despite my pleas to the contrary. But, he will come home with even more confidence, buoyed by his newfound ability to stay away for longer stretches of time, surrounded by people his own age.

Back home he has left a large void in the family, a space of silence that he usually fills with chatter, observations and mischief. My daughters reflect on how quiet and dull life is without their older brother, who organizes impromptu theatrical performances long after bedtime and is always game for a round of Monopoly. Sure, there’s less sibling rivalry. But I’d trade it in a heartbeat for his broad smile and spontaneous hugs.

My own days at camp come to mind vividly, though they happened a quarter-century ago. You can’t forget your camp crush, the couple that got expelled for climbing into a sleeping bag together or guard duty, when we climbed atop a water tower to “protect” the other campers from imagined threats to their safety.

photo - Shabbat eve at Camp Miriam, 1949. For generations, Jewish camp has been instilling Jewish values and a love of Judaism in campers — Shabbat eve at Camp Miriam, 1949. For generations, Jewish camp has been instilling Jewish values and a love of Judaism in campers. (photo by Sarah Ehrmann *(née Shirley Gurevich) Habonim collection, JMABC L.24608)*

I remember the warmth of singing songs around a long table, our bellies filled with food. My camp occurred on a different continent and in a different generation, but, like the one my son is attending, it was a Jewish overnight camp and it changed my life. It opened my eyes to different ways of being Jewish and impregnated my mind with the beauty of Shabbat.

As I prepare to welcome him home in a few days, I’m fervently hoping his camp will leave him with a similar feeling of Jewish warmth and nourishment. Those in the business of funding Jewish overnight campers firmly believe that the future of Judaism and its leaders lies in the bunk beds of today’s Jewish camps. That’s because they offer a 24/7 Jewish environment that’s engaging, supportive and fun, one that promotes religion and religious values.

With two years to go until a bar mitzvah, I’m counting on it. I’m already fielding questions like “Why do I have to eat kosher?” If I’ve had to endure 18 days without my son, he’d better come back with – at the very least – an answer to that question.

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net. This story was first published in 2012.