Drash: Camp Newman / Simchat Torah
By: Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin
Tags: Resilience, Camp, Urj Camp Newman, Judaism, Santa Rosa

Drash: Camp Newman / Simchat Torah

Shabbat Bereshit 5778 | October 13, 2017

This sermon is also available in video form.

I rarely have time anymore to read purely for pleasure. But when I do, I savor the experience. When I feel the back of the book getting thin, I start to read more slowly, take more breaks.

But eventually, a good book always ends. And slowly, reluctantly, I have to close the cover and re-enter the world outside the story. But a really good book always stays with me long after the book is closed.

On Simchat Torah, we close the Torah on its final chapters. We are collectively wistful. We have stretched out our reading of it for a full year as we’ve turned it again and again, making new meaning with each twist of the scroll. And tonight, with our story over, we elevate this moment of renewal.

Our tradition teaches us to drip honey on our Hebrew books to literally taste the sweetness of this moment even as we are sad that the story is over.

The conclusion of Simchat Torah not only marks the end of our yearly Torah reading, but it also marks the end of our chagim — these holy days that began weeks ago as we prepared our hearts for Rosh Hashanah. Like our Torah reading, the holidays too are simply… over. We wish the holiness of these days could last a little longer. We could take more time with family and friends, spend more hours together in this holy space. But time trudges on relentlessly. As the days pass, the taste of holiness remains in our mouths. Like a story that stays with us long after we’ve finished reading, we can still feel the crunch of sugar from our apple shaped cookies, sweet as honey on our tongues.

Some stories don’t end, even when we think they are over. So many of us here tonight are thinking about the way Camp Newman impacted our lives. Because of Camp Newman, I am here with you tonight. I would even go so far as to say that because of Camp Newman, I have the privilege of being your rabbi.

It was 2002, and I’ll be honest: my first summer at Camp Newman was hard. I had never been to California.

I didn’t know there were so many hills there. I didn’t know anyone when I arrived and it took most of the summer to crack the NorCal culture. I couldn’t wait to go home to my beloved East coast. This story couldn’t end fast enough.

However. In the weeks and months after camp ended, I slowly realized that camp had awakened my Judaism in a way I had never felt before. I hadn’t gone to Jewish camp as a kid, and I had never participated in this kind of 24/7, Judaism-infused life. For the first time I understood what it felt like to play Frisbee Jewishly, and to eat in the chadar ochel Jewishly, to make friends Jewishly. To really live Jewishly, with Torah as the reason and influence for each moment. This revelation — this new understanding of what it really meant to infuse Judaism into a secular life — led me to my first job out of college as a Jewish day school teacher. That was the job that inspired me to become a rabbi. And it was then, while studying at HUC in LA, that I was offered, somewhat ironically, a summer job back at Camp Newman.

I had thought that story was long over — but as it turned out, it had never quite ended. That was 2007. And after that summer, I never really left. I stayed on throughout my time at HUC. Live Jewish became a camp-wide theme, hundreds of campers wearing these bracelets with our summer-long LiveJewish slogan. What I learned at camp soaked into my soul — as I know it has for so many of you. That was the summer that I got to know Rabbi Dennis, when he told me to call him if I was ever looking for a job. I still go up to Newman in July as summer faculty — texting pictures of happy campers to anxious parents and giving out copious amounts of junk food to our PTBE kids.

As an added dose of sweetness, for the last five years I’ve had the chance to introduce my kids to the rolling hills and enchanted forests of Santa Rosa. Many of you know that mysister is now the camp director, which means that time up at camp is special for our whole family. Not only is Camp Newman the place where I learned what Judaism can look like when we unwrap it and let it run free, but for my family, camp is our home-away-from-home. Little did I know in 2002: this story was just beginning.