Shabbat-O-Gram 7/10

Dear Kingswood Families,

A few days ago, I was in the dining hall early in the morning with Leor, our Head of Jewish Life. We were chatting over our morning coffee, talking about how we start our day. “Meditation and prayer,” said Leor matter-of-factly. “I’m done ruining my days with the news.”

I shared that I also have attempted to start the day from a place of quiet and positivity, but that the closest I’ve been able to come is listening to a meditation on my Calm app while reading Times of Israel and checking my email at the same time. Not exactly getting the full bang for my buck.

How do you start your day?

Do you intentionally protect your peace for a little while before opening yourself up to the world? Or do you feel a responsibility to know what’s happening, even when what’s happening feels impossibly heavy?

I have yet to determine the right answer, but Leor’s confidence in his decision to keep the world out of his mornings seemed in line with what we do here at camp.

People sometimes joke that camp is a bubble, and they’re right. Living here, it’s surprisingly easy to lose track of what day it is, let alone what’s happening outside our little corner of Maine. It’s become such a joke with our Leadership Team that we now call Monday ‘REAL’ Monday, and still there were supervisors who adamantly thought Thursday was Shabbat.

Part of me worries about the disconnect sometimes. Should I be informed? Do I have a responsibility to know what’s happening in the world the moment I wake up?

But maybe the purpose of the camp bubble isn’t just to help kids escape the world. Maybe it’s to help them prepare and practice for it.

This Shabbat, our youngest campers in Olim, and our oldest campers in Chalutzim, are leading Shabbat together. Their theme is The Power of Words, and the more I’ve sat with their theme, the more I think they’re talking about something much bigger than just speaking kindly.

We live in a world overflowing with words. News alerts. Group texts. Social media. Opinions. Commentary. We have more access to one another than ever before, yet there has never been a time when people have reported feeling more isolated and alone.

At camp, words matter more When you say you talked to someone, you actually mean face to face, not over text. Words are spoken across a picnic table. After lights out. Shared on a hike. They’re the words that invite someone to join a game. Apologize after an argument. Encourage before a camper steps onto the stage.

Watching the Chalutzim campers prepare their parts for Shabbat with their Olim buddies, I could see the 10th graders learning about leadership by the moment. As they get to know their buddies, they are learning that leading isn’t about being in charge, it’s about making someone else feel important. A Chalutzim camper telling an Ol’, “Come on, I’ll show you,” can light up their entire face.

I’ve often been asked why I chose camp as my life’s work. There are certainly easier, less stressful careers. For years, my answer was always a little less polished than it probably should have been. I’d say, “Because I want to create an army of people who give a shit.”

Twenty-five years later, my answer hasn’t changed.

Not because I want children to grow up thinking what I think, but because I want them to grow up caring about the people and the world around them.

On one level, it’s learning to care enough to ask a bunkmate if they’re really okay or if a joke has gone too far. On another level it’s caring enough to believe that if something isn’t right, they have both the ability and the agency to help make it better.

It’s why we have a Camper Feedback Box in the Dining Hall, and why we give campers experience surveys. We are teaching campers that their voice can make a difference, that their words matter, and that they can impart change if something matters to them enough to speak up.

If there’s one thing that genuinely worries me about the world our children are inheriting, it’s not that they’ll have too little information. It’s that they’ll become so overwhelmed by it all that they’ll become apathetic, and stop believing they can make a difference.

That’s one of the reasons I love Kingswood the size it is. I don’t want children growing up feeling anonymous.

I want campers to know they can walk up to me after dinner, and chat about their bunk. I want them to know that they’ll be heard. When kids grow up feeling seen, they believe their voices matter.

As we begin Shabbat, our youngest and oldest campers will be standing side by side. One group is just beginning their Kingswood journey. The other is beginning to imagine life beyond it, as they think about becoming CITs next summer. Tonight, they’re leading us together.

The youngest reminding us that every voice deserves to be heard.

The oldest reminding us how much responsibility comes with having a voice that others are listening to.

Maybe that’s the real power of words. Not simply that they can change someone’s day, but that used thoughtfully, they can change a whole community.

If we can help children grow into adults who pay attention, who care deeply, who use their words to lift people up instead of tear them down, and who never lose the belief that one person really can make a difference, then I honestly believe we’re making the world a little better, one summer at a time.

Wishing you and your family a peaceful Shabbat.

-Jodi