Letter from camp #1

…but the reason for me writing again is not to tell about the fun of camp, but to describe the spirituality of it.
Imagine yourself in a sanctuary outside. Trees surround you. The brancehs spread over your head like a shield or G-d's hand, protection you from unholy things. Benches are all around you, filled with people, all eager to be a part of something wonderful. No one is an outcast here or a strangers. We are all equal. The sound of children's voices is all you hear - in unison but in harmony too. The sound of our ruach, our spirit drowns out the guitar that had once been leading us. Now we lead the guitar.
It's amazing to be around people who want and feel the same way. And we don't have to hide it because this is who we are. I wish you could be here to share this with me. I miss you a lot.

Letter from camp #2

"...Today we did a group activity, we were asked when we heard the word "Shabbat" what did we think of, what did it remind us of, and what memories did we have?
I didn't say anything because I couldn't, the memories that I have are so strong that at that moment, tears began to form in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Thankfully, nobody noticed during those moments we had to sit and think.
The smell of challah became so clear it was as if I was right there. I could hear Joram and Kaleb's laughter, the sound of tiny feet running around the house in the excitement of guests' - and Shabbats' - arrival. I could smell vanilla in the air as if Naomi and Allison were sitting right there with me.
I could see everyone sitting around the Shabbat table, telling jokes, deep in conversation, or telling the reason for why they brought the food they were assigned. I saw Dad singing a random song. I heard Noah playing his guitar. I thought about giving Mom a hug and a kiss.
I had the memory of being surrounded by the community of people that love me, and that I love too...."

Endings

The last day of school has come. You feel that you want to cry, next won't be this good, the teacher's this nice, the students this kind. Next year will be the first time in 4 years that you have been in that same school with 4 grades in it again. You know that everyone will be watching out for themselves. Friends won't be the same, teacher's won't be so kind, and the boy's won't be so immature, at least we hope. We will be the youngest in the school, we won't know what to do with ourselves. The homework will be harder. The hours will seem longer, the nights will seem shorter. And as graduation day comes, for us in the 8th grade it seems like high school is so far away. When in reality it's only 3 months away. The ending of this school year will be the ending of our childhood. The teacher's must let go of our hands, next year they won't care if we actually do our homework, our grades are our decisions. We won't have a dress code to follow, they expect that by 14 years old we'll know how to dress approprietly, and for some of us this is true, for other's they still need some practice. The hours of homework won't be so merciful next year, they expect that we can manage time and know when to get to bed in order to be ready for the next day. I know I'm ready, but I don't want to be ready. The end is nearing and my childhood is disappearing, and at the same time my mind is growing. I am ready.

HaZamir

So you walk into this room, you've been here a couple of times so you know your way around. A couple of other kids come into the room, they look about your age, but you're not quite sure. An adult steps into the room, she introduces herself and hands out music. You don't know this music, but she tells you that you're going to be learning it. You feel insecure in this place with all these other people around you, but you follow everyone else. You don't want to name yourself the baby of the group.
A few months later, this is just a memory. We walk into the room together, laughing and smiling, having a good time. The director is there - we warm up and start to sing. All around us everything else is quiet except for the sound of the piano and 14 wonderful voices. The first song ends, we are all silent, listening to the stillness around us. Tears fall down my face. G-d surely must have given us this gift. I can see I'm not the only one crying. We all connect through those silent tears. We start another song, just as beautiful and just as moving. We keep our faith as strong as our voices. We tell the story. The tears keep falling down our faces as we sing. From a distance it looks as if we are very upset, but if you looked closer you'll see the smiles on our faces. We cry tears of happiness and rejoice in the music we make when we come together.
We are not G-d, we are not angels.
We are HaZamir.