Friday, May 3, 2002
Two summers ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Israel with NFTY, the North American Reform youth movement of which SAFTY is a part. In addition to seeing the many usual tourist attractions and holy sites, this special five-and-a-half week program included such unique activities as a boat ride from Athens to Haifa beginning our journey, a week with Israeli teens and their families, and hiking…LOTS of hiking.
I know you're probably thinking “Hiking in Israel? What an incredible experience!” And looking back I might agree…However for a shy and almost strictly indoor person like me, something about sleeping on the ground and getting up at 4AM to schlep up and down mountains—with, I might add, no showers—for four days did not exactly sound like the ideal Israel experience. But, there I was, with no choice but to “gut it up” and make the best of it. I managed this fairly well for a couple days and had even begun to marvel at how survivable the experience had been. But, somewhere near the end of our last full hike, we arrived at what would be that day's destination, Mt. Solomon.
Briefly, Mt. Solomon is the highest peak in the southern part, almost the very tip, of Israel, and according to what I had heard, would provide an incredible view and even a very spiritual experience…But first I had to get there. The rocky path before me, which had begun to narrow and crumble as we continued our ascent to the mountain was now just wide enough for one person to walk at a time. I began to panic.
Why had I said I would do this? What if I slipped? What if I simply couldn't do it and had to admit defeat in front of all the people in my group, or worse, to myself? These worries began to overwhelm me and I froze…simply stopped at the foot of the mountain and nothing, not the pushing of the voices of my peers or the coaxing of my counselors, could make me take another step.
Somehow, I did manage to negotiate a way to let the rest of the group that was behind me go around and continue up Mt. Solomon, but I was still stuck. Part of me wanted to climb, not to miss out on what I'd heard would be so incredible, but the fear of not making it was still holding me there. I had come most of the way, but this last part seemed too steep and too unfamiliar.
How much now this experience seems to relate to high school and especially my senior year. Until this semester, high school was very much like the path I described leading up to the mountain. There were a few twists and rocks, definitely ups and downs, and a few very narrow spots that definitely took some negotiating. But somewhere around December or January—around the time college application deadlines were looming in red ink on my calendar—came the feeling that I was again standing at the foot of a mountain, this one also known as the second semester of senior year.
Even though I had made it so far, at least according to those around me, I had all but lost sight of the peak of the mountain that would be the end of the year, graduation, a college acceptance letter.
Part of this week's Torah portion is B'har or “on the mountain,” and that is just where I find myself now. I am still a few feet from the summit which will be actual graduation at the end of the month. But, since I began my journey in high school—and even since January—have made progress up this mountain that I couldn't have predicted, and which I owe at least partially to my friends from SAFTY and NFTY as well as the community here at Temple Beth-El.
Temple Beth-El is where the journey of my formal Jewish education began. It is where I was consecrated, where I became a Bat Mitzvah, and where I was confirmed, and in between met the rabbis and educators who have become my role models, so to speak, for living Jewishly. And where else could I have learned all the words and choreography to “Hands Hold the Torah?”
Sometime around my freshman year in high school, I attended Greene Family Camp for the first time for a full summer session and was introduced to NFTY shortly after. NFTY, and the amazing friends I made there, became the thread that tied all my Jewish experiences and education together—and at times held me together—throughout high school. To continue with the mountain analogy, the seasonal NFTY events acted as checkpoints along the often steep and rocky path, helping me refuel and keep going in the right direction.
My experiences in SAFTY and NFTY, primarily my years on local and regional board, have given me the confidence in myself as well as the chance to learn and explore as a Jewish teenager. Growing up in a place like San Antonio, these organizations have offered me the unique experience of a Jewish community through which I've met so many of my closest friends—many of whom live across the state, the country, and the world!
In addition to Green Family Camp and Israel, I have had the opportunity to attend The UAHC Kutz Leadership Academy for a summer, a workshop at the Hebrew Union College rabbinic seminary, and several other events across the country. Not only have these events expanded my knowledge of Judaism, but they have, at the same time, enhanced my ability to ask relevant questions, to discuss important issues, and to both learn from and teach others.
For all that NFTY has given me in the past four years, I know I am ready to move on to college and adulthood. However, I cannot ignore the fact that I am in a unique position of being in between—on the peak of the mountain, so to speak—where I can look both behind and in front of me at the same time. The memories of what made NFTY wonderful for me are still with me, even as I have ideas and visions of what it can be for my younger friends and for generations that will follow. I would love to see every program with which I have been involved continue to grow and improve and hope to contribute to that process. There are so many ways for current and past SAFTY- and NFTY-ites to continue to care about and work with the communities that have allowed each of us to learn and grow as Jews. Whether it be as board members, committee chairs, or songleaders, or, later on, as advisors, educators, cantors, and rabbis—each of us up here can contribute something to the future of Reform Jewish Youth.
I guess I don't have to tell you whether or not I climbed Mt. Solomon after all, but in case there's any doubt, I made it. It turned out that I was not—as I had perceived—the only one who had hesitated. With a small group of about five or six, and with my group's educator encouraging me—even giving me a hand from time to time—I made it. And let me tell you…it was worth it! Looking back, I felt a surge of pride—and relief!—when I saw the entire path I'd hiked behind me. How much less daunting it seemed from my new vantage point…how much more rewarding! But even more exciting was what I saw before me! Not only was the tip of Israel in sight, but from where we sat I could see across the borders of three other countries as well as the Red Sea between them. How much more perspective I had…how much more to look forward to! As a senior in high school and in NFTY, I have the similar advantage of reaching what is really the first major peak in my life to allow me this kind of perspective on my past and future.
In every b'nai mitzvah ceremony, the child's prayer to God ends with the words of the shehecheyanu: “We thank God for keeping us alive, sustaining us, and allowing us to reach this joyous event in our lives.” Those word seem so right to me right now, not only for my arrival at this point, but for the individual peaks each person in SAFTY, and probably in this room, has reached by the end of this year, that I think it would be appropriate if we all said the shehecheyanu together in Hebrew: Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, shehecheyanu, v'kiyimanu, v'higiyanu, lazman hazeh.
And if you happen to make it to Israel and have the opportunity to visit Mt. Solomon, I highly recommend making the climb…the view is incredible.
Shabbat Shalom.
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