Making the New Newer

By Reuben Berman
Columbia University / JTS

Each student returns from his or her summer with something brand new, such as new friends, new experiences, or new ideas. No matter what we were doing, whether it be working at a camp, interning, or just lounging around, we are given the time to actually appreciate our surroundings, rather than being subjected to the endless hustle and bustle of school life. We are given a chance to recharge our internal batteries and prepare ourselves for the challenges that the next year will bring. These batteries are not simply limited to catching up on lost sleep, but reinvigorating our intellectual and spiritual capacities. Unfortunately, these unique experiences are almost always impossible to translate into the school year, as we are swallowed alive by papers, deadlines, clubs, sports, and a host of other activities that demand our attention. Thus, occurrences that were once momentous pieces of the weekly structure are cast by the wayside, devoid of the meaning that they once held because of the total shift in surroundings.

While working at Ramah Nyack over the summer, I came to realize very quickly that the most important moment of the week was Shabbat, a time to rest and relax, to spend time with friends and play outdoors and to seek spiritual rejuvenation. There is nothing in the world that creates a more perfect aura of spirituality than an entire community welcoming Shabbat together, with each of us devoting ourselves to the holiness of the day, and perpetuating that devotion until there were three stars in the sky on Saturday night. This dedication existed within every member of the community, regardless of his or her level of religious observance. We ate together, we sang together, we studied together, and, when Shabbat had ended, we wished each other a good week, and then began looking forward to the next Shabbat.

In comparison, a normal Shabbat on campus is a lackluster experience, with only a handful of people showing up for minyan, and then every person heading off in his or her own direction, whether it is to the library, the dorms, or the dining hall. We cease to be a community as soon as we step outside of Hillel, and even within Hillel we are divided by denomination. We are not a community, simply a group of people who do the same thing at the same time for a moment before going our separate ways.

During the final Shabbat at camp, our assistant camp director offered us a drash on the idea of this separation. He pointed to the words that we end Shabbat with, which say, "Blessed is God, who separates between sacred and profane," and explained that just as Shabbat is a separation, a break in the mundane, so too camp functions as that same separation. However, just as we carry our experience of Shabbat throughout the week, we should also carry what we love and treasure about camp throughout the rest of the year, instead of allowing our experiences to sink into obscurity. To this I add one more piece; that we must mold what we love about the sacred into what we find to be mundane, and thus continue to elevate our own experiences throughout the year.

Reuben Berman is from Port Washington, New York, and is a sophomore at List College at JTS with Columbia in New York. He is also a counselor at Ramah Day Camp in Nyack, New York.

[Posted 8/30/11]