In The Zone
Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
We have all
heard of Oorah and are familiar with its jingles, loveable mascot Fiveish, and
annual Chinese auction. We have seen its ads and know that Oorah has something
to do with kiruv, but most of us don’t know what the organization is all
about.
I spent this
past Shabbos in TheZone, Oorah’s summer camp for boys. There is a
separate camp for girls as well. I had been there twice previously; the last
time was nine years ago. Though I knew what to expect, I was bowled over by
what is probably the greatest secret in Jewish camping and kiruv.
It was Shabbos
Nachamu and it was a nechomah to see and partake in what goes on
there.
As Kabbolas
Shabbos began the last time I was there, the head counselor announced that
those present were about to experience the best Kabbolas Shabbos in
their lives. For most of the hundreds present, it would not be much of a
contest. For the overwhelming majority of the campers, if they wouldn’t be in
TheZone, they would not be experiencing Shabbos.
There was no
such announcement this past Friday night, but the scene was similar, though
this time it was much more touching. So many of our brothers and sisters in
this country have been swept away by assimilation, lost to our people. In some
places, the intermarriage rates are 90% and there is little hope of reaching
those people, who have deviated so far from Judaism that it is almost
impossible to find them, much less be able to approach them and send them a
rope with which they can reattach themselves to their heritage.
The counselors, yeshiva
bochurim who volunteer their bein hazemanim to make a difference
in the lives of Jewish children, and guests at the camp were in for a special
experience. It was a nechomah to watch how public school kids, who were
new to Shabbos and to davening and so much else, were mekabel
Shabbos that night. Slowly, but surely, the bais medrash came to
life. We watched children trying mightily to daven. Their fingers, which
would otherwise be typing on their phones or flipping channels, pointed to the
letters in their siddurim, as they tried valiantly to sing the praises
of Hashem and His Shabbos.
After growing up
in homes where Torah, Shabbos, kosher and mitzvos are foreign
concepts, and after going to public elementary and high school and attending
college with no religious education, who can blame them for knowing nothing
about and having no interest in Judaism, or anything Jewish, including Israel?
After growing up
with Saturday as just another day off, with McDonald’s and Burger King as
favorite restaurants, and learning morality—or the lack thereof—from public
school teachers and off-the-deep-end professors, quite often there is nothing
that even hints at their genetic Judaism. Millions and millions have been swept
away.
Oorah reaches
these Jews when they are still young, before they have been so tainted that
there is no way back. The camp is a key tool in teaching kids with love about
who they are, where they are from, and what that means for them.
I looked at the
children as they davened, their small, cherubic faces topped with a
variety of yarmulkas, wearing tzitzis for the very first time in
their lives. Their fingers pointed at the letters of the prayers they had just
learned about last week when they experienced their first Shabbos. This
week was their second Shabbos, and they seemed to be into it and
enjoying it. I looked into the eyes of some of these children and saw a neshomah
coming to life—a comforting sight in a confused world. As so many are being
lost, these are being found, and you can see their latent sparks igniting right
in front of you.
We wait all week
for Shabbos and its brachos, and the menucha it brings. We
take it for granted, but for many of these children, Shabbos is
something unfamiliar, something they are just beginning to learn about. They
have the zechus to be in this camp for a month, having a great time and
discovering davening, learning, tzitzis, Shabbos, and
other mitzvos. They have Torah sessions with their volunteer bnei
Torah TorahMates, who will continue learning with them throughout
the year over the phone.
At a time when
the governments of the United States and Israel have all but declared war on
religion, it was comforting to see further proof that they won’t succeed.
For an hour
before the Shabbos meal, the boys learn the mitzvah of the week
with their TorahMate chavrusos in the various botei medrash on
campus, each pair on their level. I circulated among them with Rabbi Mintz,
asking them questions on what they had studied and engaging in conversation
with them about where they are from and what school they attend. While every
one of them attends public school, they were deeply engrossed in learning about
the mitzvah of kibbud av vo’eim.
The children
hailed from a variety of states, cities and countries.
One boy is from
France. He lives there, goes to school there, and thinks that France is a
better place to live than the United States. Why? “Because it’s much more
normal.” And no, he hasn’t seen much anti-Semitism where he lives. I hope he’s
right. He is spending a month in camp, getting acquainted with Torah and a path
that we hope will lead him to Torah.
Another boy
lives in Tel Aviv. This isn’t his first time at camp. He was there two years
ago and liked it so much that he returned this year with two cousins. Imagine
that! Three boys from the heart of Tel Aviv traveling to the United States to
become familiar with Torah. It’s almost like a good news/bad news story. Jewish
boys in the Jewish state know little about Torah and religion, so where do they
go to get introduced? To Oorah’s Zone in New York State. You can’t make it up.
Another boy was
from San Antonio. Another was from Hewlett, Long Island, one of the Five Towns,
next door to Lawrence and Cedarhurst, and very close to Yeshiva Toras Chaim in
Woodmere. He goes to the Hewlett-Woodmere Middle School.
For an hour,
these boys and hundreds of others sat and studied Torah. I wish you could have
been there with me and seen campers and counselors escape this world and climb
to a much holier place. Those who wonder what Oorah does should have been in
that room and felt the energy and the kedusha. They would have
experienced the mesirah of Torah from special yeshiva bochurim
who give up their bein hazemanim for this holy cause.
It was a nechomah
to be there and speak to the campers. They shared their stories, relating how
far they have come and how far they have to go. The kid from P.S. 41 was as
sweet as can be. You look at him and your heart breaks knowing where he came
from and where he is headed unless the bochurim, rabbeim and
leaders of Oorah are able to convince his parents to enroll him in a yeshiva.
It is
overwhelming when you ask a boy what he likes most about camp and he says, “Shabbat.
I never knew what it was. It’s awesome.”
You don’t know
what will happen with him when he leaves camp. Will he be able to maintain his
love for Shabbat in his secular home? Will his appreciation for kedusha
remain vibrant in the world of public school and ta’aruvos of every
type? Will his Torah time with his TorahMate keep him connected through the
year until camp rolls around again?
I met several
boys and yungeleit who are now learning in yeshivos, thanks to
Oorah and its team of volunteers. Oorah started them off, moved them along,
enrolled them in appropriate yeshivos, helped with tuition, assisted in
getting them married, and remain connected with them. They came back to camp to
help do for others what was done for them.
One college
student approached me with some questions and then told me about his friend,
who is with him in camp and wants to study in a yeshiva in Israel but
needs help to accomplish that. Oorah is assisting him, but he needs to show his
commitment as well. One boy helping another to progress along the religious
path… Is there anything more touching?
Kids in camp
have questions. One asked a shailah about whether he could make Kiddush
on soda when he goes back home. He mentioned that his parents are not religious
and he doesn’t think that he can start keeping Shabbos just yet.
However, he wants to keep something. Camp lit a spark inside him, and he wants
to keep it flickering. He wants to make Kiddush at home every Shabbos,
but there’s no grape juice in his house. So, he wants to know if he could make Kiddush
on soda and recall what Shabbos was like in camp. He wants to maintain
some kedusha in his life.
A real boy, a
real question, a real Yid, who will one day learn Torah and be shomer
Shabbos thanks to Oorah.
Not only is the Shabbos
davening special, but the meals are as well. The food and service are
exceptional, probably better than anything they get at home. And the dining
room comes alive as it’s time to sing the “Shabbat zemirot at the Zone.”
The tunes are
the classics we all know and grew up with, but TheZone campers hear them for
the first time when they experience Shabbos in camp. They quickly get
the hang of the songs and are swept up as the hundreds of people in the room
sing the century-old niggunim with heartfelt enthusiasm.
The melodies
remain the same, but the words are written in English in a way that the kids
can understand and relate to. It touches their souls and envelops them in
holiness.
They sing Shalom
Aleichem and the words, “Bo’achem leshalom, we’re all prepared for a
peaceful Shabbos, day of rest, a taste of the holy and divine.”
As they wind it
down, they sing, “Tzeischem leshalom, go in peace, go with shalom,
keep this image in your heart, let this scene of bringing Shabbos home
and to TheZone set our week apart.”
That tune stays
with them, and they bring it back home. They influence their family,
introducing them to Shabbos, Kiddush, and zemiros. You
never know how far it can go. Oorah connects with the parents, helping them
reconnect with their heritage and where they come from.
Bit by bit, word
by word, niggun by niggun, mitzvah by mitzvah,
Oorah guides them along, bringing nechomah to entire families as they
bring them home and to us, while the kanfei haShechinah expands.
Chicagoans who
were alive in 1946 when Chief Rabbi Yitzchok Isaac Herzog came to town never
forgot his message. He arrived soon after the Holocaust, and multitudes of
people gathered to greet him in one of Chicago’s large shuls. All the
local rabbonim were there, along with important baalei batim,
lovers of Torah, and bochurim of all ages.
First, he
delivered a shiur. When that was done, he began to speak in a plaintive
voice. He told the crowd that he had come to Chicago from Rome, where he had
had an audience with the Pope.
He came to town
after meeting with the Pope, as he attempted to convince the Catholic Church to
release ten thousand children, whose names he had brought with him. Many of the
children had been kidnapped. Others had been handed over by desperate parents on
their way to the gas chambers.
Rav Herzog
recounted how the Pope refused his request. Then he began crying
uncontrollably. He couldn’t continue. He bent over, propping himself up on the
podium, and continued to sob loudly. The people were in shock. They sat there
in absolute silence. There was no sound in the vast room other than the
terrible sobs of pain from the respected rov.
He finally
composed himself, though his face was red and he was visibly agitated. He
called out to the assembled and said, “I have done everything I possibly could
for those kinder. There is nothing more I can do for those 10,000 Yiddishe
kinder.” Then he thundered, “What are you going to do for Klal Yisroel’s
kinder? You all have an achrayus to Klal Yisroel’s
children! You must never forget that. Never forget what I am telling you.
Everyone has to do something for the children of Klal Yisroel.”
Everyone who was
in that shul that night and heard the appeal was changed and resolved to
do something to help Yiddishe kinder.
We no longer
have people like Rav Herzog and the Ponovezher Rov, whose Holocaust experiences
drove them to do what they could to save Yiddishe kinder, but the need
is the same, if not greater. So many Yiddishe neshamos are getting
swallowed up, not by the church, but by the forces of tumah in the
public schools and on the streets.
We all need to
feel some type of achrayus to them, and to their zaides and bubbes
who fought to keep mitzvos.
Rav Chaim Mintz
heard the cry of the children. He saw them slipping away and developed the idea
of Oorah, which blossomed into an empire of kiruv.
It was a long
drive there and a long drive back, but I am so happy I went and saw Yiddishe
kinder of the type that are getting lost being brought back by Yidden
with achrayus who dedicate their lives to their mission. I am happy I
got to see and touch the flame and work to make it a little stronger.
Ashreichem
and ashrei all who dedicate their lives to working with Jewish children,
through chinuch and kiruv, keeping them under the kanfei
haShechinah through Torah and mesirus haTorah b’derech Yisroel sava.
May Hakadosh
Boruch Hu bentch all who work to keep the flame lit and prepare the
world for Moshiach Tzidkeinu.
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