Camp
This past Tuesday, I made my way home after spending ten days at Greene Family Camp. And while I was grateful to have camp back, this year looked a little different. Typically the "first day" is organized chaos. Parents begin unpacking in cabins. Sometimes reminiscing as they stroll the campus grounds. Campers and luggage are scattered in every single direction. Staff are racing, trying to keep up. It's absolute mayhem. But good mayhem. Filled with the adrenaline of nostalgia and new beginnings. But this year, to keep camp alive, safety protocols outbid the chaotic norm.
The scene was heavy. A bit dreary. The air was thick. An overcast sky hovered above us, sprinkling rain on tired travelers. After saying their goodbyes, campers clung to their pillows and stuffed animals. They appeared so innocent. But also skeptical. Unsure of what to make of all the new rules and guidelines. We journeyed in pods from one station to another and finally escorting each camper to their assigned bunk. I remember one middle-school camper I tried to cheer up. He spoke only in one-word sentences. It wasn't his first year at camp, but he was hesitant. I marked his quiet, reserved body language as he shrank into himself. The whole scene strangely reminded me of Ellis Island. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free."
But then, the following day, as the sun came out, the campers loosened up. I was hoping to locate a particular building on campus and saw the same boy I had previously talked to. "Hey bud, do you happen to know the name of that building across the way? I'm a little lost" He turned to his bunkmates. And looked back at me with a smile. "YOUR MOM!" (yes, “your mama” jokes are still a thing)
"Well then," I thought to myself. “I'm glad everyone's gotten comfortable at camp.” After explaining why that was utterly inappropriate, he made his merry way giggling alongside his new cabin family. And as the days went on, everyone seemed to be themselves again. But that's the point of summer camp. It's a place to be yourself. Your true self. And you'll notice, by the second or third day, campers begin to show their true colors. Meaning, they start behaving like children that their parents see at home. Because camp is this social experiment. At camp, you cannot hide. There isn't really a place to. Eventually, you and your personality will be on display. Which also includes the trivial aggressions of everyday life –the bickering, the tantrums, and the name-calling. They don't all just exit stage left. Camp isn’t a utopia. Camp is a magnifying glass.
What seems to fall out of everyone's head is one crucial factor. There is no escaping the people around you. These children literally sleep on top of one another. At camp, there is no walking away. There's no going home. No online social shield for slander. You have to make it work. When you get back to your cabin at night, you have to confront everything you've said and done –for better or worse.
Take right now as an example. Imagine if this was our bunk. The camp gates close. And it's just us. Think about what you might discuss. What you might not. Think hard about the person you're advertising for the folks around you. What part of you do you NOT want others to see. Because that's the exact part of you that camp brings out. Eventually…
At GFC, there are four values that camp is centered around. Friendship-Reut, Respect-Kavod, and Jewish People-Am Yisrael. And the fourth, and what I believe is the most important, is called “Hineni.” Which GFC translates as "Being an Individual." But I think it has a broader meaning.
When Moses attempts to flee Pharoah after striking down an Egyptian and hiding him in the sand, he ends up in Midian. It's there that he settles down with his new wife and family. But you can't hide forever, Moses. You can't hide from destiny. You can't escape your identity. Because eventually, it will come looking for you.
“An angel of the LORD appeared to [Moses] in a blazing fire out of a bush...yet the bush was not consumed. Moses said, ‘I must turn aside to look at this marvelous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up?’ When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to look, God called to him out of the bush: ‘Moses! Moses!’ He answered, ‘Here I am.’”
For me, the word "Hieneini" - in its essence - incorporates the values of friendship, respect, and identity with the Jewish people. Because when campers arrive in Bruceville, Texas, what you're really saying is "I am here" - Here for good. No scurrying back to the arms of mom and dad (Sadly, only the rabbi's kids get to do that one).
A while back, a buddy of mine was explaining what it was like to be married (please save your comments). We had a long conversation about learning to live with your spouse and communicate in ways that help the relationship grow. After watching him back down during an argument with his wife, with whom I was friends as well. I asked him why he bit his tongue. As a high school football coach with a knack for philosophy, this man loved a good spar. But he put it simply. He said, "I don't FIGHT to win. I don't WANT to win. I LIVE to fight another day." And while this may seem crass, let me explain as he did. It's not about being right all the time. Because even if you win the argument, there you are. Staring face to face at your partner. Congratulations. There is no going home. You ARE home. (and if parents do get involved...I am praying for you).
In a community like ours, when we say Hieneini, we more or less resign ourselves to stick it out. Now I've lived in a small town. And I'll tell you right now that when you can't fade away or make a new group of friends. You start acting differently. Compromising in ways you never thought you would. And when you're a generational Houstonian, (which by default means you have no plans on leaving), you do socialize differently. I’ve also been a rabbi long enough to know that there are only so many synagogues you can bounce between. Because while you may have won the boardroom fight over one matter or another. Trust me, you did not win the war.
Because in a Jewish community. Camp and synagogues alike. We don't live to win. We live to fight another day. We live to make it work. To help make our communities sustainable. And those who only want to win quickly find themselves in an uncomfortable situation. Whether you are a fourth-grader or forty-four, I promise, the same social dynamics will always play out. Eventually, you will come out. The question is, what are you willing to compromise to make this whole thing work. What are you ready to give up for the goal of the community. Remember, first impressions only last so long. And then what?
When we stop thinking of every Jewish space as ours to freely enter and exit. As a rotating door that can be opened and closed at our convenience. And instead, we make a commitment to stay. To work through our issues. To live to fight another day. Then, and only then, can we really say Hieneini. I am here. Not just for a good time, but for a long time.