The holiness of returning to summer camp.
I am a camp person through and through. Camp has always been my happy place. For a long time it was the only place I felt genuinely Jewish.
I grew up being the only Jew most people in my hometown knew, and switched synagogues several times. I never felt attached to any Jewish community during the year, so my one month at camp had to provide all of my connection for the year. To steal from an Instagram caption I wrote after my last summer as a camper: “If you aren’t a camp person and you’re wondering why I always talk about camp, here’s why: the people that will always be there for me are those I’ve met at camp.”
Camp shaped me as it allowed me to be wholeheartedly Jewish and explore hobbies I would never get to at home. Daily services were annoying as a kid, but I also learned every Shacharit (morning service) prayer through experience rather than tedious studying. I learned every Lecha Dodi tune from weekly camp-wide Kabbalat Shabbat services. I got to learn how to make earrings in jewelry, paint with watercolor in art, and bake challah in cooking. I even got out of my comfort zone and climbed the ropes course every year.
I always connected more with people at camp than school because I felt like they just got it. Many of them could relate to being one of few people with their traditions in their school. Camp gives opportunities for structured learning and activities and free time. Living together capitalizes on the in-between moments and unstructured time that school doesn’t really have.
So naturally, when the time came, I transitioned pretty seamlessly from camper to staff. I had always known that I wanted to work at camp, so the decision to apply was easy. In summer 2019, I was a counselor as well as a ropes course specialist, so I spent most of my day working on the ropes course while still sleeping and eating with campers.
In a normal year, camp is the most abnormal part of my life. But this year, camp will mark a much-needed return to normalcy. Calls with my camp planning for this summer are the only Zoom calls I don’t dread anymore, because I know that they’re leading somewhere better. Filling out tedious forms doesn’t feel like a chore, it feels like a reward.
My childhood is intertwined with camp, and I would not have come to love camp as a young adult had I not been able to go as a child. I would not have come to love and want to explore Judaism in the same way. As Rabbi Mitch Cohen put it last year, “camp gives children a time to be Jewish, to learn about Judaism in a joyous setting, where young role models set the standard, providing opportunities for deep spiritual, ritual, and ethical development.”
As a staff member, camp still affects me. I still learn and grow through both formal staff learning sessions and opportunities with my campers. I got to redo fifth-grade Shacharit services, this time knowing every single word and helping my campers learn them as well. As a camper, I was never the teacher, and definitely never an expert on anything Jewish. I also get to make new connections with older generations of staff and Jewish leaders. I can ask them career-guiding or philosophical questions instead of when lunch is.
Camp gave me my best friends, college roommate and love for Judaism. I would not be the person I am today without it. In geography, we discuss the concepts of space and place. While space is just a matter of measurements, place is a matter of meaning. People ascribe meaning to spaces, making them important places. Going back to that place always feels like returning somewhere holy, and I can only hope that this summer will be the same.
EVA GROSSMAN is a contributing writer to Jlife Magazine.
