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magidMonday
I arrived later than I'd planned, so things felt a bit headlong, checking in, getting keys and information and such. Luckily, my room was in the same building as check-in, so I didn't have to rush all over campus. The lock on my door wasn't quite functional, but I told the relevant people, and got swept off to newbie orientation before I had time to focus on that.
The orientation worked well in making me realize that this is a place where people are very open and able to really listen. It's also a very diverse group, with people ranging in age, religious orientation, and almost everything else. The one down side was that the chapel's acoustics were obviously designed for people to be singing/saying the same thing at once. When we broke into smaller groups, the sound of all the conversations bounced around too much and made it hard to hear (not to mention the squeal of dragging chairs was almost painful).
From there, we went up to the opening program, which was mostly a bunch of announcements from all sorts of people about a bunch of different things. Useful, but ultimately not interesting. I did manage to find the parents, though, which was good. And I saw a number of familiar faces from years ago, which was surprising and happy-making.
From there, everyone meandered downstairs (well, downramp, actually) for dinner, then back upstairs for the evening program on "Building Peace Through Jewish Journeys." What I remember most is breaking into small groups to talk about memories of Jewish transformation (lead by Leah Lax, the writer artist in residence), and not really doing the movement activity (lead by Jesse Phillips-Fein, the dancer/choreographer artist in residence); the kinesthetic part of my brain doesn't seem to work that way.
Of note to me was how very large groups were handled: usually there was some kind of talk to the group as a whole, then breaking down into smallish subgroups, followed by anyone who wished talking about something that had struck them from the small group time. It gave me more of a feeling that the individual experience was important.
Then there was the obligatory schmooze, which went far too late, but I was having too much fun to leave at a reasonable hour.
Tuesday
I found myself thinking of it as Monday all day, because it was the first full day, and weeks start on Monday, right?
After breakfast (pancakes! but fake maple syrup), I went to the workshop on crocheting a kippah, mostly because I realized I'd forgotten my crocheting, and I could pick up a hook and some yarn (both larger than what I usually work with). It was a congenial hour chatting with other crafters, though I didn't learn anything new.
After morning class and lunch, I think I skipped any afternoon workshop (unless I went to one not on the schedule; it's a bit of a blur), went to afternoon class, then to a late afternoon slide show of photos and stories of women in the Mikvah Project, by Leah Lax. Wow. The photos are intense and beautiful, and the stories were also, all of them carefully protecting each woman's anonymity while sharing her story. Mikvah is one of the things that is not talked about, so this was interesting just because of the topic. I hadn't expected so many different personal meanings of mikvah, such a wide range of experiences (not all of them positive, by any means). I may have to get the book. And though it's not listed at the site, Leah mentioned that a stop in Boston is being negotiated, which would be excellent.
After dinner, I went to mincha-maariv, which was billed as "trad-egal." Which to me means wholly traditional liturgy and equal opportunity participation (no mechitzah, obviously). It was almost that, which is why I was surprised by the baal tefillah adding in the imahot (mothers) at the beginning of the repetition of amidah. Hrm. It reminded me that in many ways, I'm on the right-wing fringe of this transdenominational group.
The evening event focused on issues of using kosher wine, which didn't interest me, and I wanted to go for a walk, get out an move for longer. I'd gotten in a reasonable amount of walking back and forth, but I missed my hour-long morning walk commute as a time to think. I'd noticed a dirt road off the ring road, so I grabbed a flashlight and set out. As it turned out, I only used the flashlight to let cars know I was there; I didn't want to mess up my night vision. I could see different colors in the road, showing where the dirt was more or less packed, and it was mostly even enough that I didn't fear for my footing. I passed a new building's foundation, went up and down some listtle slopes, over a stream, and came out to a couple of fields that felt very open after the woods, even in the gloaming. I could tell the light was fading quite quickly, so I didn't stay long before turning around. The way back felt longer rather than shorter, partly because it was so much darker, partly because I started to feel just a little bit nervous about being out in the woods by myself in the dark. That hadn't happened to me before that I remember, so I was surprised I reacted that way this time, but I did. I would've heard any car or footsteps well before anyone approached, and all that happened was hearing an occasional skitter of some small mammal, the dedicated songs of the crickets, and the soughing of the wind in the trees, while smelling in complexly green smell of a wood with ferns in the undergrowth (much more interesting that mere cut grass). Still, I walked faster on the way back, and was happy when I saw the lights of the campus.
Wednesday
It was just wet enough that I ended up not going to an outside walking workshop in the morning, ending up at the second of three "peacebuilders film festival," an hour-long documentary video about Seeds of Peace, which focused on the summer when the founder was very ill and unable to be at the camp, so there were questions of continuity (is this a sustainable vision after the creator lets go?) among all the other unsettling questions that summer. Usually there's more friendships across the divide (Indian and Pakistani, Israeli and Palestinian, Afghan and ...?), but that summer, it wasn't happening in the same way. The kids at this camp are very up front, speaking their truth, even when it's not popular, either at camp or when they return home and try to sustain culturally-disapproved friendships. Very much worth watching.
The afternoon workshop I chose was about Jews, food, and contemporary life. It was a large group, too many to have a reasonable discussion after introductions and some text study in smaller groups, but it was invigorating to hear other people talk about food issues, ranging from large portions to whether to eat meat, to being a locavore (even growing one's own food), and more. We were given pages from a curriculum being developed by Hazon as source texts, and while it's not perfect (the first chunk we worked on lacked a complete translation, which left out the end of the text in English), it's cool to have thematic sources together like that. (They're also the group that has Jewish rides for the environment, and works with synagogues to have CSAs with Jewish teaching, all sorts of environmental stuff.)
In the evening there was a course sampler, a little taste of a couple of the daytime courses. The one that stuck with me most was the first, a Yiddish language class. We learned the Yiddish equivalent of the happy birthday song, Tzu Dayn Geburtstog (Today Is Your Birthday). Very different focus than the usual song ("Today is your birthday, And we all have come, All your friends and family, All your dear old chums. Today is your birthday, And we all have come, All your friends and family, All your dear old chums. Hoorah, hoorah, we're wishing you, Hoorah, hoorah, we're wishing you. We're wishing you health and luck!"). 'Cause without your health, what've you got? ;-)
I ended up talking with [person local to me] for a lot of the rest of the program, and well after that, someone I've known by sight for years, but never ended up talking with much before. Very cool.
Thursday
There were field-trip options in the morning, hiking Mt. Monadnock or davening at the Cathedral of the Pines, but I was tired and unfocused, so I skipped programming (there weren't many workshops, given that there were other things going on) in favor of strolling around campus and spending time on the library computers.
After lunch, I went to the workshop on socially responsible simchas, which was a pleasant brainstorming session, most of which I'd thought about before, except the issues of employees being unionized (or at least, treated well). I don't think I've heard the term "union hotel" before, for instance. We focused on the stuff (invitations and ways to pare them down, food, transportation, shelter, location, etc), but never tied it back to the other half of the equation, the joyous celebration of a life-cycle event with friends and family, the intangibles that are, in the end, more important than the dress or the hors d'oevres.
After the afternoon class, I went over the Pierce Hall to help set up the silent auction, but that had already been done (luckily; this gave me a chance to go back to the dorm and rinse deer dust out of my clothes). In addition to the silent auction (all sorts of things donated to raise money for NHC, both objects and experiences) there was a shuk, a market, with hand-crafted things for sale, information about organizations, and so on. It continued through dinner, and afterward the kids in the day camp put on a talent show in the same room (read: far too crowded to have that many things going on at once).
Once the auction and shuk were over, the tables got put away, and people went to pay for their items during the adult part of the talent show. I was impressed: there were musicians, opera singers, a funny reading, and more. I really liked Jay Michaelson's poetry reading with hand-drum accompaniment, his intensity and movement making it feel like I was at a slam. Of course, it helped that his poetry was about topics of interest, the intersection of Judaism and sexuality.
The last performance was a pick-up band, and they continued playing into the night as the chairs were put away and people started dancing. Even after the dancing slowly came to an end, people kept singing and playing whatever songs came to mind, far into the night.
Friday
I went to a morning workshop titled "Eat Your Way to Enlightenment," about mindful eating. The teacher brought a couple of different foods, so after some introduction, we had a chance to try his method, thinking about the food, considering all of it before slowly eating it, paying attention to what happened. Of course, being right after breakfast, I was already full, which made it a bit of a challenge. (But he got carrots! I'd been missing morning veggies, so that was nice.) It was an interesting experience, but what I liked most was how the teacher realized how no one has the time to take half an hour, or whatever, for contemplation. Even a whole meal eaten this way would be a hardship on a regular basis. He said that eating just one mouthful each meal in this way helped him stay focused, which sounds like it ought to be doable. (Not that I've managed this yet, though.)
There were no afternoon workshops. Instead, afternoon classes shifted earlier, to allow more time to prepare for Shabbat, whether making cards or decorations, setting tables, or whatever. The teen group had already set up an eruv overnight. I lamed out and fed my computer addiction instead of doing anything useful.
Interestingly, the lake was used erev Shabbat for a mikvah. The rest of the week, anyone could swim or use the boats during the day. But Friday afternoon, there was a women-only hour, followed by a men-only hour. I didn't go, but it was cool that it was an option.
There was candlelighting in the dining hall (a large table covered in foil, with pairs of tea lights all over it; it was gorgeous when many candles were lit), then I went back upstairs for communal kabbalat Shabbat and maariv. Since we lit candles early, the decision had been made that it was acceptable to use musical instruments for kabbalat Shabbat, so there were drums (and a sax?) along with lots of singing. Not all the tunes were Carlebach, but the davening style definitely was, with lots of singing and niggunim and dancing (though also using a microphone; not ideal). I made sure to sit towards one side, near a wall I could face, but with a view of the trees and lakes below, rather than being in the midst of the crowd, which would have been too distracting for me. As it was, I couldn't help but watch the beautiful little boy playing on the floor in front of his moms, and the guy who was mirroring the boy's movements (amazing how many yoga poses there ended up being). Too cute. And the general joy of being all together celebrating Shabbat as a community was palpable.
After davening, downstairs again for Shabbat dinner (which, ironically, had the fewest options of any meal during the week). There had been sign-up sheets for people who chose to sit together, and there were other open territory tables. There'd been kiddush upstairs, so people were making motzi table by table, mostly. I'd brought a bottle of wine (and had it vetted by the mashgiach before dinner); I had read the instruction to bring a bottle of wine as "if one wanted to make kiddush" rather than "if one wished to drink wine with dinner," otherwise I likely wouldn't've bothered.
I've been to large group Shabbat dinners before. This one was different partly because of the noise levels, which made conversation difficult, and because there were no group norms. Many people started drifting back upstairs for dessert and schmooze. I wanted to bentch, and had sort of assumed that there would be bentching as a whole. I mentioned bircat hamazon to a couple of others at my table, and that led to bentchers appearing and having a mezuman, which was joined by people at neighboring tables, when they could hear. And another table or two decided to bentch as well :-).
I meandered upward for dessert, hanging around in an underslept haze, waiting for the open (non)mic to start, before realizing it wasn't in this room at all. D'oh. Once I headed out, there was nowhere I could make myself go except back to the room, to sleep.
Shabbat
I tried to catch up on sleep, but failed. On the plus side, that meant I caught up before barchu at davening (trad-egal again, that being the best fit for me of the available options). It was outside, which meant that though there were trees, the sun shifted while we davened, and the congregation tended to shift as well. On the whole, other than the imahot question, it was reasonable davening for me. Some of the lainers were better prepared than others, but that's not a surprise. I did like how they did the mi-sheberach for the ill, with those who had a name standing up, then waiting for the gabbai to look at them before saying the name. Everyone heard each name, but without the repetition necessary to tell the gabbai. It probably wouldn't work in a larger congregation; still I much prefer this to all the 'say a name to yourself during the gap' approach.
Shabbat lunch was very informal, barely feeling like a Shabbat meal other than the cold food (and whoever decided calling the white-bean-and-veggie concoction "cold cholent" really didn't make it sound good).
I meandered back to my room and tried to nap for a bit, only marginally successfully. I was awake in time to go upstairs to the siyyum on the letter L: two guys who'd learned through all there is to know of the letter L according to the Encyclopedia Judaica. It was interesting, ranging from the silly to the serious, with a mention of favorite bits of writing as well as topics. After the siyyum-ending prayer (which sounds incredibly silly when using "L" instead of a book/tractate name), there were L snacks, too.
I couldn't face trying to sleep again, however much I needed it, so I started moving instead. Talya was kind enough to keep my keys and glasses while I took another walk up the dirt road (outside the eruv; I ducked under it as I crossed the lawn). It was a bit different in the afternoon, and unfortunately for me, much buggier (I still have the bug bites to prove it). I went a bit farther than last time, finding a number of houses up the road, one with an amazing view of the mountain.
After dinner, I went to the chapel to hear Leah Lax read from her hopefully forthcoming novel (she's projecting a possible release date in 2009, so I'm not holding my breath, just hoping) currently titled When Time Becomes a Woman, about her becoming Lubavitch as a teenager, her three decades in that community, and her eventual leave-taking (after having her seventh child). She not only had compelling stories to read, she has the gift of reading them well. I'm looking forward to getting a copy when I can read the whole thing.
There was a reasonably quick maariv out on the patio where shacharit had been, followed by havdalah on the athletic field, led by the teenagers. People naturally moved into circles, arms around waists or shoulders of the people next to them, singing Shabbat out. And the singing continued afterward, with many drums quickly retrieved. I think there were some of the basketball kids passing by, and I wondered what they thought.
The evening entertainment started with a performance by Jesse's dance class, followed by some folk and other dancing. It was an odd mix of music, ranging from Jewish music to Israeli rock to American classic rock to 'world music'. Fun to dance to. I liked that it wasn't only the 'young people' dancing, but whoever wanted to, of whatever age.
It was late when the music stopped, but I wanted to see meteors, so I grabbed a blanket from my room and went down to the beach. There were tons of people already there, and for some reason I didn't feel at all a part of the group, so I just put my blanket down and stared at the stars, which were numerous, despite there being some ambient light. Conversation and guitar/sax music swirled around me, and I lay, cooling, watching the heavens. And was rewarded: I saw a handful of meteors :-).
I knew I'd be useless in the morning, given how late it was, so I did most of my packing before going to bed, far too close to dawn.
Sunday was breakfast and a closing gathering. Many people had already started their journeys home, but there was time to say goodbye to most of the people I'd gotten to know best during the week, which was great. Interestingly, I also talked to someone for the first time during the week then, another halachically religious woman, who wants to explore what would be possible at the more traditional end of the spectrum, particularly for davening options. Cool.
And then I was out on the road, driving away, tired but satisfied.
For next year:
I arrived later than I'd planned, so things felt a bit headlong, checking in, getting keys and information and such. Luckily, my room was in the same building as check-in, so I didn't have to rush all over campus. The lock on my door wasn't quite functional, but I told the relevant people, and got swept off to newbie orientation before I had time to focus on that.
The orientation worked well in making me realize that this is a place where people are very open and able to really listen. It's also a very diverse group, with people ranging in age, religious orientation, and almost everything else. The one down side was that the chapel's acoustics were obviously designed for people to be singing/saying the same thing at once. When we broke into smaller groups, the sound of all the conversations bounced around too much and made it hard to hear (not to mention the squeal of dragging chairs was almost painful).
From there, we went up to the opening program, which was mostly a bunch of announcements from all sorts of people about a bunch of different things. Useful, but ultimately not interesting. I did manage to find the parents, though, which was good. And I saw a number of familiar faces from years ago, which was surprising and happy-making.
From there, everyone meandered downstairs (well, downramp, actually) for dinner, then back upstairs for the evening program on "Building Peace Through Jewish Journeys." What I remember most is breaking into small groups to talk about memories of Jewish transformation (lead by Leah Lax, the writer artist in residence), and not really doing the movement activity (lead by Jesse Phillips-Fein, the dancer/choreographer artist in residence); the kinesthetic part of my brain doesn't seem to work that way.
Of note to me was how very large groups were handled: usually there was some kind of talk to the group as a whole, then breaking down into smallish subgroups, followed by anyone who wished talking about something that had struck them from the small group time. It gave me more of a feeling that the individual experience was important.
Then there was the obligatory schmooze, which went far too late, but I was having too much fun to leave at a reasonable hour.
Tuesday
I found myself thinking of it as Monday all day, because it was the first full day, and weeks start on Monday, right?
After breakfast (pancakes! but fake maple syrup), I went to the workshop on crocheting a kippah, mostly because I realized I'd forgotten my crocheting, and I could pick up a hook and some yarn (both larger than what I usually work with). It was a congenial hour chatting with other crafters, though I didn't learn anything new.
After morning class and lunch, I think I skipped any afternoon workshop (unless I went to one not on the schedule; it's a bit of a blur), went to afternoon class, then to a late afternoon slide show of photos and stories of women in the Mikvah Project, by Leah Lax. Wow. The photos are intense and beautiful, and the stories were also, all of them carefully protecting each woman's anonymity while sharing her story. Mikvah is one of the things that is not talked about, so this was interesting just because of the topic. I hadn't expected so many different personal meanings of mikvah, such a wide range of experiences (not all of them positive, by any means). I may have to get the book. And though it's not listed at the site, Leah mentioned that a stop in Boston is being negotiated, which would be excellent.
After dinner, I went to mincha-maariv, which was billed as "trad-egal." Which to me means wholly traditional liturgy and equal opportunity participation (no mechitzah, obviously). It was almost that, which is why I was surprised by the baal tefillah adding in the imahot (mothers) at the beginning of the repetition of amidah. Hrm. It reminded me that in many ways, I'm on the right-wing fringe of this transdenominational group.
The evening event focused on issues of using kosher wine, which didn't interest me, and I wanted to go for a walk, get out an move for longer. I'd gotten in a reasonable amount of walking back and forth, but I missed my hour-long morning walk commute as a time to think. I'd noticed a dirt road off the ring road, so I grabbed a flashlight and set out. As it turned out, I only used the flashlight to let cars know I was there; I didn't want to mess up my night vision. I could see different colors in the road, showing where the dirt was more or less packed, and it was mostly even enough that I didn't fear for my footing. I passed a new building's foundation, went up and down some listtle slopes, over a stream, and came out to a couple of fields that felt very open after the woods, even in the gloaming. I could tell the light was fading quite quickly, so I didn't stay long before turning around. The way back felt longer rather than shorter, partly because it was so much darker, partly because I started to feel just a little bit nervous about being out in the woods by myself in the dark. That hadn't happened to me before that I remember, so I was surprised I reacted that way this time, but I did. I would've heard any car or footsteps well before anyone approached, and all that happened was hearing an occasional skitter of some small mammal, the dedicated songs of the crickets, and the soughing of the wind in the trees, while smelling in complexly green smell of a wood with ferns in the undergrowth (much more interesting that mere cut grass). Still, I walked faster on the way back, and was happy when I saw the lights of the campus.
Wednesday
It was just wet enough that I ended up not going to an outside walking workshop in the morning, ending up at the second of three "peacebuilders film festival," an hour-long documentary video about Seeds of Peace, which focused on the summer when the founder was very ill and unable to be at the camp, so there were questions of continuity (is this a sustainable vision after the creator lets go?) among all the other unsettling questions that summer. Usually there's more friendships across the divide (Indian and Pakistani, Israeli and Palestinian, Afghan and ...?), but that summer, it wasn't happening in the same way. The kids at this camp are very up front, speaking their truth, even when it's not popular, either at camp or when they return home and try to sustain culturally-disapproved friendships. Very much worth watching.
The afternoon workshop I chose was about Jews, food, and contemporary life. It was a large group, too many to have a reasonable discussion after introductions and some text study in smaller groups, but it was invigorating to hear other people talk about food issues, ranging from large portions to whether to eat meat, to being a locavore (even growing one's own food), and more. We were given pages from a curriculum being developed by Hazon as source texts, and while it's not perfect (the first chunk we worked on lacked a complete translation, which left out the end of the text in English), it's cool to have thematic sources together like that. (They're also the group that has Jewish rides for the environment, and works with synagogues to have CSAs with Jewish teaching, all sorts of environmental stuff.)
In the evening there was a course sampler, a little taste of a couple of the daytime courses. The one that stuck with me most was the first, a Yiddish language class. We learned the Yiddish equivalent of the happy birthday song, Tzu Dayn Geburtstog (Today Is Your Birthday). Very different focus than the usual song ("Today is your birthday, And we all have come, All your friends and family, All your dear old chums. Today is your birthday, And we all have come, All your friends and family, All your dear old chums. Hoorah, hoorah, we're wishing you, Hoorah, hoorah, we're wishing you. We're wishing you health and luck!"). 'Cause without your health, what've you got? ;-)
I ended up talking with [person local to me] for a lot of the rest of the program, and well after that, someone I've known by sight for years, but never ended up talking with much before. Very cool.
Thursday
There were field-trip options in the morning, hiking Mt. Monadnock or davening at the Cathedral of the Pines, but I was tired and unfocused, so I skipped programming (there weren't many workshops, given that there were other things going on) in favor of strolling around campus and spending time on the library computers.
After lunch, I went to the workshop on socially responsible simchas, which was a pleasant brainstorming session, most of which I'd thought about before, except the issues of employees being unionized (or at least, treated well). I don't think I've heard the term "union hotel" before, for instance. We focused on the stuff (invitations and ways to pare them down, food, transportation, shelter, location, etc), but never tied it back to the other half of the equation, the joyous celebration of a life-cycle event with friends and family, the intangibles that are, in the end, more important than the dress or the hors d'oevres.
After the afternoon class, I went over the Pierce Hall to help set up the silent auction, but that had already been done (luckily; this gave me a chance to go back to the dorm and rinse deer dust out of my clothes). In addition to the silent auction (all sorts of things donated to raise money for NHC, both objects and experiences) there was a shuk, a market, with hand-crafted things for sale, information about organizations, and so on. It continued through dinner, and afterward the kids in the day camp put on a talent show in the same room (read: far too crowded to have that many things going on at once).
Once the auction and shuk were over, the tables got put away, and people went to pay for their items during the adult part of the talent show. I was impressed: there were musicians, opera singers, a funny reading, and more. I really liked Jay Michaelson's poetry reading with hand-drum accompaniment, his intensity and movement making it feel like I was at a slam. Of course, it helped that his poetry was about topics of interest, the intersection of Judaism and sexuality.
The last performance was a pick-up band, and they continued playing into the night as the chairs were put away and people started dancing. Even after the dancing slowly came to an end, people kept singing and playing whatever songs came to mind, far into the night.
Friday
I went to a morning workshop titled "Eat Your Way to Enlightenment," about mindful eating. The teacher brought a couple of different foods, so after some introduction, we had a chance to try his method, thinking about the food, considering all of it before slowly eating it, paying attention to what happened. Of course, being right after breakfast, I was already full, which made it a bit of a challenge. (But he got carrots! I'd been missing morning veggies, so that was nice.) It was an interesting experience, but what I liked most was how the teacher realized how no one has the time to take half an hour, or whatever, for contemplation. Even a whole meal eaten this way would be a hardship on a regular basis. He said that eating just one mouthful each meal in this way helped him stay focused, which sounds like it ought to be doable. (Not that I've managed this yet, though.)
There were no afternoon workshops. Instead, afternoon classes shifted earlier, to allow more time to prepare for Shabbat, whether making cards or decorations, setting tables, or whatever. The teen group had already set up an eruv overnight. I lamed out and fed my computer addiction instead of doing anything useful.
Interestingly, the lake was used erev Shabbat for a mikvah. The rest of the week, anyone could swim or use the boats during the day. But Friday afternoon, there was a women-only hour, followed by a men-only hour. I didn't go, but it was cool that it was an option.
There was candlelighting in the dining hall (a large table covered in foil, with pairs of tea lights all over it; it was gorgeous when many candles were lit), then I went back upstairs for communal kabbalat Shabbat and maariv. Since we lit candles early, the decision had been made that it was acceptable to use musical instruments for kabbalat Shabbat, so there were drums (and a sax?) along with lots of singing. Not all the tunes were Carlebach, but the davening style definitely was, with lots of singing and niggunim and dancing (though also using a microphone; not ideal). I made sure to sit towards one side, near a wall I could face, but with a view of the trees and lakes below, rather than being in the midst of the crowd, which would have been too distracting for me. As it was, I couldn't help but watch the beautiful little boy playing on the floor in front of his moms, and the guy who was mirroring the boy's movements (amazing how many yoga poses there ended up being). Too cute. And the general joy of being all together celebrating Shabbat as a community was palpable.
After davening, downstairs again for Shabbat dinner (which, ironically, had the fewest options of any meal during the week). There had been sign-up sheets for people who chose to sit together, and there were other open territory tables. There'd been kiddush upstairs, so people were making motzi table by table, mostly. I'd brought a bottle of wine (and had it vetted by the mashgiach before dinner); I had read the instruction to bring a bottle of wine as "if one wanted to make kiddush" rather than "if one wished to drink wine with dinner," otherwise I likely wouldn't've bothered.
I've been to large group Shabbat dinners before. This one was different partly because of the noise levels, which made conversation difficult, and because there were no group norms. Many people started drifting back upstairs for dessert and schmooze. I wanted to bentch, and had sort of assumed that there would be bentching as a whole. I mentioned bircat hamazon to a couple of others at my table, and that led to bentchers appearing and having a mezuman, which was joined by people at neighboring tables, when they could hear. And another table or two decided to bentch as well :-).
I meandered upward for dessert, hanging around in an underslept haze, waiting for the open (non)mic to start, before realizing it wasn't in this room at all. D'oh. Once I headed out, there was nowhere I could make myself go except back to the room, to sleep.
Shabbat
I tried to catch up on sleep, but failed. On the plus side, that meant I caught up before barchu at davening (trad-egal again, that being the best fit for me of the available options). It was outside, which meant that though there were trees, the sun shifted while we davened, and the congregation tended to shift as well. On the whole, other than the imahot question, it was reasonable davening for me. Some of the lainers were better prepared than others, but that's not a surprise. I did like how they did the mi-sheberach for the ill, with those who had a name standing up, then waiting for the gabbai to look at them before saying the name. Everyone heard each name, but without the repetition necessary to tell the gabbai. It probably wouldn't work in a larger congregation; still I much prefer this to all the 'say a name to yourself during the gap' approach.
Shabbat lunch was very informal, barely feeling like a Shabbat meal other than the cold food (and whoever decided calling the white-bean-and-veggie concoction "cold cholent" really didn't make it sound good).
I meandered back to my room and tried to nap for a bit, only marginally successfully. I was awake in time to go upstairs to the siyyum on the letter L: two guys who'd learned through all there is to know of the letter L according to the Encyclopedia Judaica. It was interesting, ranging from the silly to the serious, with a mention of favorite bits of writing as well as topics. After the siyyum-ending prayer (which sounds incredibly silly when using "L" instead of a book/tractate name), there were L snacks, too.
I couldn't face trying to sleep again, however much I needed it, so I started moving instead. Talya was kind enough to keep my keys and glasses while I took another walk up the dirt road (outside the eruv; I ducked under it as I crossed the lawn). It was a bit different in the afternoon, and unfortunately for me, much buggier (I still have the bug bites to prove it). I went a bit farther than last time, finding a number of houses up the road, one with an amazing view of the mountain.
After dinner, I went to the chapel to hear Leah Lax read from her hopefully forthcoming novel (she's projecting a possible release date in 2009, so I'm not holding my breath, just hoping) currently titled When Time Becomes a Woman, about her becoming Lubavitch as a teenager, her three decades in that community, and her eventual leave-taking (after having her seventh child). She not only had compelling stories to read, she has the gift of reading them well. I'm looking forward to getting a copy when I can read the whole thing.
There was a reasonably quick maariv out on the patio where shacharit had been, followed by havdalah on the athletic field, led by the teenagers. People naturally moved into circles, arms around waists or shoulders of the people next to them, singing Shabbat out. And the singing continued afterward, with many drums quickly retrieved. I think there were some of the basketball kids passing by, and I wondered what they thought.
The evening entertainment started with a performance by Jesse's dance class, followed by some folk and other dancing. It was an odd mix of music, ranging from Jewish music to Israeli rock to American classic rock to 'world music'. Fun to dance to. I liked that it wasn't only the 'young people' dancing, but whoever wanted to, of whatever age.
It was late when the music stopped, but I wanted to see meteors, so I grabbed a blanket from my room and went down to the beach. There were tons of people already there, and for some reason I didn't feel at all a part of the group, so I just put my blanket down and stared at the stars, which were numerous, despite there being some ambient light. Conversation and guitar/sax music swirled around me, and I lay, cooling, watching the heavens. And was rewarded: I saw a handful of meteors :-).
I knew I'd be useless in the morning, given how late it was, so I did most of my packing before going to bed, far too close to dawn.
Sunday was breakfast and a closing gathering. Many people had already started their journeys home, but there was time to say goodbye to most of the people I'd gotten to know best during the week, which was great. Interestingly, I also talked to someone for the first time during the week then, another halachically religious woman, who wants to explore what would be possible at the more traditional end of the spectrum, particularly for davening options. Cool.
And then I was out on the road, driving away, tired but satisfied.
- There was a lot more schmoozing and hanging out than the stuff about might indicate. Yay.
- Everyone wore name tags pretty much throughout, which was great for me. I let people's names go by at the beginning, and there's nothing yet to hang it onto, and by the time I know more about the person, it's not always easy to ask again. So having names right there all the time definitely helped. (Not quite as much as I would have hoped, though; perhaps I really do have to work on this more concentratedly.)
- Watch out for goose droppings.
- It was great not to have to think about meals (planning, shopping, prep, cooking). Most of the food was pretty good, too.
- The cafeteria people labeled everything not only by name, but with a list of ingredients. There were vegan options at every meal, and I saw gluten-free desserts as well. Anyone with specific food concerns had been asked to inform the mashgiach (or someone) ahead of time, to make sure everyone could eat.
- Lunches and dinners always had pizza and ice cream (and frequently, fries). Kid heaven.
- The times on the schedule never became automatic, because they never seemed to be set up for easy-to-remember slots (9:25-10:25, 10:35-12:05, 1:40-2:40, 2:50-4:20). I had to keep pulling out the schedule and consulting the watch in my pedometer.
- The dorm bathrooms were a bit odd, without a door to the area with sinks (off of which were two rooms with a toilet and a pair of showers in each).
- Pleasing: finding the knot in someone's shoulder and mostly working it out.
- Satisfying: teaching someone to crochet.
- I remain impressed by all the people I met, each one accomplished and thoughtful.
- I think I'm not so good at figuring out how to join social groups, too afraid of imposing myself, too unsure that it will be ok. I'm not sure how to change that, though.
For next year:
- Bring the clip-on light, but don't bother with the timer.
- A window fan is useful if I'm in a non-air-conditioned space, so worth bringing just in case.
- Bring a blanket (The dorm ones were pretty awful. The sheets weren't great, but not nearly so annoying.). Also pay attention to where outside lights come if the blinds aren't wholly closed.
- Open a window at night.
- Remember to pack whatever crocheting project(s) appeal.
- Bring snacks. (There were three meals a day, but I tend to snack in between times, and I think I'd've eaten less at meals had I alternate calories with me. Plus, easier to host an impromptu gathering, if that appeals)
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 03:18 am (UTC)(What is the issue with glasses and the eiruv? Or rather, what makes glasses different from clothing? Or were you talking about a pair you were carrying but not wearing for some reason?)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 01:17 pm (UTC)(I have prescription sunglasses, so during the day, I carried around whichever pair wasn't on my face. The pair I was wearing were not an issue to wear outside the eruv, but the other one was.)