New Website!

(For those of you who haven't noticed yet...)
In the spirit of the new year, I'm happy to announce that Heart to Heart has a new website - LevBLev.org!

But don't worry, just because Heart to Heart is getting a little more organized and official, doesn't mean it's losing any of it's authentic, personal touch - this is just to extend that touch to wider audiences (and to make it look more official for potential organizational partners, donors, etc.)

I'll probably continue my posting there, so feel free to update your bookmarks to LevBLev.org/blog and check out the offering on the site. It'll hopefully be updated in the near future - both the website pages and the blog!

On a side note, if anyone would like to volunteer their services (whether for website design, graphic design, or really anything), I'd love to hear from you!

On another side note, I'm at Brandeis for Sh'mini Atzeret/Simchat Torah/Shabbat! I dunno if any readers are around there or have connections there and it may be too late, but just throwing it out there... In general, I'm going to be traveling around to different colleges pretty frequently so I'll try and let people know somehow so we could meet up! Ahhh, which reminds me, I never updated everyone on what the future plans for Heart to Heart are. Well, the website says some of it, I'll have to do the rest later...

Final thought: There are these "once-a-year Jews", who go to synagogue once a year - usually Yom Kippur. Which is probably the worst idea - their one exposure to Judaism is a day of fasting, boring prayer, no sexual activity, and more boring prayer. No wonder they don't come back for a whole year! I think we should make a push to get people to come to synagogues for Simchat Torah - let them see some dancing, some joyous Judaism, some funny shtick, and yes, maybe even some drinking. Especially college kids - they'll feel right at home! I know it's (probably) not the deepest and holiest aspect of Jewish life, but maybe that'll inspire them to come back.
Chag sameach!

The Power of “Shabbat Shalom”

Guest post! (written by an anonymous dear friend of mine) 

My invitations to Jewish functions are usually very direct.  I’ll invite a friend to join me on Friday night for Shabbat dinner or come with me to hear a speaker.  And sometimes, even when I can’t make it to something, I’ll send them an invite anyways and encourage them to attend.

Like anything, this direct approach has its advantages and its disadvantages.  It gives the person very specific knowledge of the activity, whether it be a dinner or a speaker or whatever else, and can give them the extra push to attend something that they would not have otherwise attended just for the sheer fact that they were personally invited.

On the other hand, such direct discourse can sometimes come off as a bit too aggressive and actually have the opposite effect of what was intended.  The invite may come off as a sort of holier-than-thou greeting to try to get them to become more “religious.”  As a result, the person may feel intimidated, rather than inspired, by the invitation and respectfully decline in fear of committing to something greater than the one-time dinner or discourse to which they are being invited.

I’ve always been impressed by the markedly warm and welcoming way in which some of my friends invite others to do something Jewish.  Yes, it’s important to invite people to meaningful Jewish activities like Shabbat dinners, they say, but it’s equally important to give them the space to make the decision on their own volition rather than feeling like they’re being pulled into something. 

This summer, I finally decided to take that approach when I met a student at a social function for Jewish college interns, We had a wonderful conversation about Jewish life on our respective campuses, and afterwards I thought it would be a great idea to invite her to a weekly Shabbat dinner widely attended by Jewish interns during the summer months. 

In the middle of writing her a Facebook message on a Friday afternoon in which I planned to invite her to dinner that night, I recalled the idea about giving people space and, rather than sending her a direct invite, I told her how nice it was to have met her earlier in the week and merely ended the message with two simple yet incredibly powerful words as my signature:  “Shabbat Shalom.”  

Moments later, I received an e-mail from her.  She said that it was great to have met me as well, and then, to my amazement, she asked if I had any suggestions for Shabbat dinner that night!  I immediately called up Hart -- who as it turned out, was making a H2H meal that night – and told him what had happened.  It was a memorable moment and a vivid reminder of the power of the simple two-word greeting we extend to our fellow Jews each week as Friday night draws near:  SHABBAT SHALOM.  By sincerely sharing these two simple words, we can have a tremendous impact on others.  It is a greeting which is inclusive and gives them the space in which to interpret what it means to them at that particular moment in time.  Ultimately, It’s about connecting in a real and genuine way, heart to heart, and allowing someone to feel comfortable establishing that connection with you.

Shabbat Shalom.

Being a Part of the Performance

I'm currently in St. Louis, at a big Hillel conference, networking and making my pitch about Heart to Heart. Ton of fun.  I recently recieved an email from a friend which I think has such an unbelievably powerful message. This friend is the member of a Jazz band and performs at some local bars from time to time. As a college student, many of the friends whom he is inviting are minors, which recently posed a problem for an upcoming gig. Here's part of the email he sent out: The owner of [the venue] just called me and told me that he isn't licensed for minors to be in the vault UNLESS they're playing music. This happens to contrast heavily with our "minor's allowed" policy. So here's the plan if you're a minor coming tonight: 1. There will be no cover charge because... 2. You will receive (unless you want to bring one) a very quiet percussion instrument and become part of our "percussion section" at a table near the band. 3. You don't need to play the whole time but only when it feels right-- you might also get a few solo breaks if you're up for it... Why wait to sit in when you could be laying down grooves the whole night long? Hope to see you all there tonight! This is amazing - in order to allow minors to be present for their concert, they are going to include them in the performance! The concept of making the "audience" active participants is such a beautiful and deep way to include people in the experience of which you want them to be a part. I was recently in a session (at a Hillel conference in St. Louis) where they talked about facilitation, and compared it to conducting (highlighted by this fascinating video)  There's a lot of meaning behind that - and I think a lot of what I strive to do is to facilitate Jewish experiences and encounters for others, often by directing them and other religious students. But when dealing with all sorts of "stakeholders" or "audience members", it's so important (and often difficult) to remember to include others in the experience, to help them make the moment real for them. For example, to have different people sharing ideas at the Shabbat table (on kiddush, shalom aleichem, etc.), or having everyone act out a part in the Seder. Besides for getting them interested and active, it's about them being part of the experience, not some "rabbi doing things for them", or something external happening around them. Sure, it takes a delicate methodology to facilitate that, but I think it's crucial for people to become committed or invested in something, and you never know what magic will occur!

Pesach@Penn 2010 - part 3, The Rest of the Chag

I ended up staying in school for the whole chag - I had seen my parents the week before, my siblings were coming to visit me for Shabbat, and it would my last chag at Penn as a student - how could I leave!! People asked me "Hart, are you really staying at Penn for all of Pesach??" You would think that I was being enslaved in Egypt, that's how averse people were to the idea. No, I wanted to stay, and it ended up being incredible (of course), including some of the most amazing tisches of my time in Penn - one tisch in 403 in the dark with 50 people sitting on the floor, 1/2 OCP, 1/4 CJC, and 1/4 Kesher or unaffiliated; another one with 35 people outside on the grass, until it got broken up by the cops at 1am. And they were really good tisches - amazing singing, wonderful people, beautiful words of Torah, and some delectable kosher-for-Passover treats from my grandparents (thanks B&G!).

Probably because there was a small Orthodox crowd, we all got to bond with each other, as well as to meet new people and include them into our community; I probably met over 50 new people over Pesach - and that's just me! In retrospect, what was also amazing was that we did all that (Seders, tisches, shiurim, and ran an amazing community for a week) without the JLIC rabbi and rebbetzin being here. There's something nice about having a rabbi run things, but there's something downright inspiring about running a community yourselves. And you get to do it exactly how you want, down to the tisches, the table arrangements, and the Seders. In some ways, we got a taste of what it's like to go to a college with a small religious community. For all the struggles and challenges it presents, it also affords a lot of amazing opportunities, both within the Orthodox community and in impacting the wider Jewish population. In fact, when Pesach ended and the masses came back, a few students shared with me their frustration and disappointment that we'd have to go back to the old ways. Don't get me wrong - there's something amazing about having such a big and vibrant religious community, but believe it or not, there are times when I'm jealous of those colleges with small communities and no rabbi. (Probably only until I have to be in that community full-time.) Regardless, those 8 days at Penn were some of the most freeing and uplifting as any, and definitely a good way to end my Penn career. Until I come back next year, of course ;)

Pesach@Penn 2010 - Part 2

Besides for the Seders, one of the best aspects of Passover is the eating "kosher for Passover". "What?!", you're probably asking me, "Isn't that the most annoying part?" Well, what I love most is how everyone does it - Jews who don't keep kosher or rarely identify as Jewish will be adamant about keeping "kosher for Passover". I once had someone ask me if his turkey and cheese salad was "kosher for passover" - I guess they're different laws and as long as there's no leaven in there, he was doing alright. I'm not sure why, but it's great!

At Penn, people come out of the woodworks to eat at Hillel on Pesach; I saw some people who I hadn't seen since last Pesach, and some people who I had never seen. Many of the people who I met for the first time at the Seder came back to Hillel over the next few days and we've made sure to say 'hello' to them and reconnect with them. One of the best practices we tried instituting was in arranging our seating: Over yom tov, those who were at shacharit would come down to eat after prayers and we were often the first and only ones there. Normally, we would fill 2 or 3 tables ourselves - partially out of convenience and partially out of design. Because invariably, half an hour later, random people would start trickling in to eat lunch, likely in between classes or perhaps just getting out of bed.  We would be sitting in our nice, yom tov-clothes and trying to have a nice yom tov-meal, and in would come these random kids - who probably didn't know what yom tov was, who just wanted to eat "kosher for passover". And so we'd end up sitting at our tables, they'd end up sitting at their tables (or by themselves) and never the twain shall meet.

I had an idea. Instead of all sitting together and filling up our tables, what if we spread out and filled 5 or 6 tables halfway, leaving half the table empty. When the other students would come in, either they'd join on their own or we could invite them to sit with us. And that's what we did - and people were usually overjoyed to sit with us, talk with us, and to celebrate Pesach with us. They were also then able to hear kiddush with us, which is a much better and more organic method than getting up on a chair to make kiddush for everyone in the room (which some people tried doing). By making one little change, I and others were able to make so many new friends and helped make the environment a little more welcoming and friendly for everyone.

Heart to Heart in the Kiruv World

In the spirit of תשעה באב, here's a video from Project Inspire which I think you might find interesting, and perhaps even inspiring... (full disclosure: I'm featured in it!)

(full video here)

For the record (and I should probably write a whole separate post about this), I don't like to call it "kiruv", but rather loving people (hence the name "Heart to Heart"). As Rav Kook famously said, 

"If we were destroyed, and the world with us, due to baseless hatred (sinat chinam), then we shall rebuild ourselves, and the world with us, with baseless love (ahavat chinam)." (Orot HaKodesh III:324) 

I saw a line from Rav Amital zt"l (which also appears in Rav Kook's writings) qualifying that oft-quoted claim: There is no such thing as undeserved love -- everyone deserves it. It's our job to discover why and how to share that love with others.

DC meets Kentucky, part 5

Oh man. So I always tell people that there are pros and cons of the Shabbatons that we go on to other schools. The cons are that it's harder to find people and harder to stay in touch and build relationships, which are some of the essential components of "Heart to Heart". The pros are the unique and memorable experiences, and the opportunity to meet and share Judaism with people from totally different places. To counter some of the cons, there are technology and other useful tools - like facebook, which could be used for both a) finding people and b) staying in touch and building a relationship.

When we were planning out trip to Kentucky 18 months ago, we ran into some of these same issues and solutions, with some great help from the One above. In particular, the story of how I found one girl from Transylvania University was really amazing - and the whole thing ended up working out really well. (It was also one of the clearest instances of the Hand of God that I've seen.) I don't know if I ever shared this, but ever since that Shabbat we've become friends and stayed in touch, occasionally facebook chatting - about life, hockey, Ketucky and of course, about Judaism. (As an avid fan of Prince of Egypt, she LOVED our video!) She's probably the most religious and Jewishly knowledgeable student in Kentucky and I was encouraging her to get involved, perhaps run some Shabbat dinners for the other students, especially the many who had expressed interest when we came. She said she was honored and really appreciated it and would think about it, but that its really hard.

Fast forward to two days ago, when Kener invited me to dinner at Eli's; he also said he was bringing a friend. Turns out this friend was a Jewish kid from Penn who lived in Maryland and Kener had randomly met up with that afternoon and brought along for dinner. Great guy, we had a great time at dinner - and so when I got home that night, I went to friend him on facebook. That's when I saw that one of our mutual friends was that girl from Transylvania/Kentucky!!! Turns out they were from the same city in Maryland and went to the same high school (and Sunday school). So I sent her a message, asking her how camp was (which I saw she was in by stalking her fb wall) and telling her that I met a former classmate of hers in DC. She wrote back a while later that camp was in fact good, but that for the weekend, she was coming to DC!! It was for unfortunate circumstances (her brother is having surgery), but she wanted to know if I wanted to meet up over the weekend! Of course I said yes, and after an exchange of text messages, we're set to meet up this weekend. Maybe I'll even invite her to the Georgetown Chabad, where I plan on going tonight for Shabbat dinner.

The point is that you never know the effects of your actions, and the relationships you build are some of the most important assets that you have. Even "shot-in-the-dark" Shabbatons can make profound impacts and build lasting connections, assuming you have the right intentions and you get some help from Above.

I'll let you know how it goes this weekend :) Shabbat shalom y'all!

p.s. Check out my dvar torah on this week's haftorah (it's from last year, but probably just as relevant)

Jewish Empowerment

Ahhh, so much to write about - speaking tour 2010... Israel in general... next year... DC... I'll get to it all soon, I promise. For now, one quick story which happened yesterday, which I must share.

To catch you all up briefly, I'm working this summer in Washington DC with/for Hillel International, as a summer intern. (Though in reality, I'm planning for next year and how to take Heart to Heart national.) Anyway, so I was talking with some of the other interns in the office - they're all college students, involved in their local Hillels, interested in engagement and Hillel's strategy, etc. I started telling them about Heart to Heart and what I've been starting and trying to spread, including some of the programs we run (e.g. Shabbat dinners, Hebrew classes, etc.) One of the girls asked me where I run the dinners, to which I responded (in typical Third Space language) - in my dorm room, in friends' apartment, off-campus houses, etc. "So which rabbi runs the meals?", she asked me. I was stunned - that thought had never even occurred to me, that I had to have a rabbi run everything. "Well, none.", I answered, "We do it ourselves, me, my friends." "What?!", she responded, "So who explains things? Who talks when everyone is eating?" As I tried to explain how the meals work, the other girl turned to her and said "Don't you see? We've been thinking about it all wrong."

When I told the story to my mom, she pointed out something interesting. For people who didn't grow up in religious homes, their only perception of Shabbat and of ritual Jewish observance was in the synagogue or in school or in a Chabad house, with the rabbi telling everyone what to do. Many people don't know, or didn't even think to learn, that they could do it themselves - they can run their own Shabbat dinners, teach their own Judaism, forge their own paths. Much of institutional Judaism's failing is the lack of empowerment - relying exclusively (not that any reliance is bad, but exclusive reliance is problematic) on rabbis and others, thus becoming lazy, ignorant and apathetic about their Judaism. People need to realize that they can do it themselves, they can help mold their own Jewish identities and create the Jewish future they so desire. It's not so simple and it takes many things, but the first thing is realizing that the Gd-given power rests within you.

"Who's that good looking guitar player?"

Having done a lot of these "Heart to Heart" Shabbat dinners (over 40!), there are many things I've learned - some of which I came across by accident but which have proven to be very helpful. Here I'll share one such practice:

One of the best things about the meals is that there's no set script - after explaining shalom aleichem, kiddush, and making motzi, we just go with the flow. And it always works, conversations spontaneously occur, people meet everyone around them and a certain level of comfort pervades the atmosphere. But it's always nice to help that process along, and hence the invention of ice breakers - where everyone goes around the table and introduces themselves as well as something about themselves. The big dilemma is always what should the ice breaker be? Something serious? Something funny? Something original? Something Jewish?

Something I've started using is "What's your favorite YouTube video?". I think it's great for a number of reasons, all of which I've seen borne out. Firstly, because everyone watches YouTube - this shows a common cultural language and is something over which everyone can bond. I don't know if people actually think that Orthodox/religious students don't watch YouTube or have their fingers on the pulses of pop culture, but this sure dispels that notion. The best is when people affirm each other's choices ("Oh man, I love that one too!"), instantly giving people a sense of validation and belonging. It also jump starts conversations, and gets people comfortable talking and sharing with everyone else at the table. Also, people often choose funny videos, leading to spontaneous and contageous laughter. Some people choose serious and important videos, which often lead to meaningful conversations. People's choices also tell a lot about them - their interests, their sense of humor, how much time they waste online, etc - which is exactly what you want out of the ice-breaker. Other than breaking the ice.

Another hard question is how to follow-up with people - you don't want to make it sound like you're required to send them a form-email saying "Thank you for coming." You want to make it real; you want to make it personal. What I started doing was emailing everyone from the meal with a link to my favorite video, as well as a line or two saying how wonderful it was sharing Shabbat with them. Then I'd get someone else to reply-all with their video, and if it catches on, you can start off a whole little email chain. (The dynamics for that to happen are a whole other story.) Once when we did it, someone replied that she had such a good time and wanted to do it again soon! So simple, yet so powerful.

The video I often pick is this one:

Because:

• I really do love it!
• I'm in it!
• I get to tell people how it happened: an impromptu group of people joining together to celebrate Judaism in a joyous, musical, magical and communal manner - not unlike what Shabbat dinner itself is. 
• And because it's Jewish, but also cool and actually pretty good. And pretty popular - over 1,500 hits!

So when I send out the email to everyone after shabbat, I title it "Who's that good looking guitar player?" ;)

Longing for the Beit Hamikdash

Two year ago from this Shabbat, I helped Drexel AEPi run a Bar Mitzvah. I'll have to tell that story another time, it's too good - and long. But in preparing for it, I was helping some of the brothers learn to read Hebrew and lain. I was teaching them one of the pesukim in this week's parsha and they asked me to translate it. It happened to be about stoning people who worship Ov and Yidoni - not exactly the most politically correct topic, nor one that people find most attractive about Judaism. But what the heck, I figured, and I told them exactly what it meant. "Woah!", they exclaimed, "That's awesome! Do we still get to do that?" I told them no, that since the destruction of the Temple a few thousand years ago we no longer have the judicial authority to punish people the way the Torah prescribes. To which one of them responded: "Man, I wish we had the Temple back."

Out of all the times we say in davening or zemirot that we wish we had the Beit Hamikdash back - how many times did we actually mean it? Here was someone who didn't know much - but at that moment, on his own, he really meant it when he wished for the Beit Hamikdash. Our people never cease to amaze me...

Pesach@Penn 2010 - part 1

Pesach. Ahh, where to start...

After last year's grand successes, we figured we'd do it again but on a larger scale, maybe even try some advertising. First we got a website, and then came the video :) (huge thanks to Kiderboy, Jordan, Treiger, and everyone else who made it happen)

We even made it onto UnderTheButton (Penn's blog) and some random Israeli blog!

I think it paid off - they were ridiculously packed:

7 Seders, 180 people the first night; 4 Seders, 100 people the second night!

Perhaps most importantly is the students who led the Seders - 25 students who volunteered to be a part of the effort. Double what we had last year, these were students who willingly (or unwillingly) gave up on the comfort of their home in order to be at Penn, leading Seders for their less affiliated Jewish peers. It was a great mix of student leaders, from the Orthodox and Conservative Communities at Penn, Brandeis and UChicago (though most were OCP), some more religious, some cooler, some on the fringes of the OCP. They all deserve a lot of credit for spending time and effort planning, learning, arranging sessions, breaking into groups, and mentally preparing for the Seders. [Side note: as much as the whole process was intense, important, and meaningful, it was also fun and enjoyable. At least for me :)]

So the Seders - they were all amazing, of course. Even though I could tell how they were by just being there and feeling it, sometimes you have to objectively measure greatness - not an easy task, but I'll try.

Most of the attendees were Jewishly uninvolved or marginally involved students - some were friends of ours and some were random walk-ins [but they soon became our friends ;)] Most of the Seder ran until 11 or 12, with most participants staying for 3, 4, or 5 hours or until the building closed. One Seder lasted 'til 1:30 AM, getting some late reinforcements from a dance team whose practice ended at midnight!

And the content: we had meaningful conversations about the relevance of freedom and slavery in our lives, singing of Am Yisrael Chai, discussions about the meaning of religion, reenactments of the plagues and Chad Gadya, dancing on the tables, costumes and props, etc. And it wasn't just the leaders - everyone was engaged, participated, raised relevant points, sang along, acted things out - probably more as the night went on (and the wine kept flowing). One girl who had recently begun learning Hebrew (she started in February with 'aleph, bet...') meticulously read one of the paragraphs at the Seder in Hebrew all on her own. An Israeli guy sitting next to her was shocked; I was proud :)

By the end, some people were thanking us for the best Seder of their life. One student later said that after hearing and participating in discussions about the meaning of the holiday and its rituals, they decided to try and keep Passover this year (in whatever way they meant). Another guy ended up coming to a learning session that one of us hosted in our house over the last days of chag (more about the rest of Pesach later). At the end of one of the Seders, an uninvolved student asked about Shabbat services and ended up coming to Hillel for services that Friday night for the first time. After services, he stayed for dinner and ended up back in my room for a tisch until 1 in the morning, leaving with a big smile on his face and a promise that he'd be back. 

If you don't call that a success, I'm not sure what is :)

People already told me they told their parents they're staying again at Penn to lead Seders next year :) Hopefully we'll all be in Jerusalem but if not, I know where I'll be.

"What Hurts the Most, Is Being So Close"

When Barack Obama was running for President, one of the things America found most mesmerizing and admirable in his campaign was how the youth got involved and how they really cared. They went out, near and far, knocking on Americans' doors, speaking to pedestrians, inviting them neighbors to rallies, asking them to sign up to vote for Obama. 'Wow!', the world exclaimed, 'These people really care about something! Isn't that incredible?!' And these Americans responded - Obama won; the youth had made a difference.
Now if you suggest to someone to invite their neighbors/co-workers/classmates to a Shabbat dinner, or ask if they want to find out more about Judaism... People will jump at your throat like you're from Mars - 'What?! Are you crazy?! Do I look like a nut-job proselytizer? That's invasion of their privacy! People would never respond to that!'
(from R' Dan Smokler)

On another note, there is a certain project that entails college students running Pesach Seders for Jews in Ukraine and the FSU - a very worthwhile and popular endeavor (see here, here, here, etc.). But what often goes unnoticed are the hundreds of spiritually and religiously starving Jews just around the corner from these very students' homes and schools. Sure it's cooler and crazier, more exotic and more exciting, but is it that much more impacting? Imagine American Jewish college students leading Seders not for elderly Russian Jews but for... American Jewish college students! They'll even speak the same language! Imagine the connections that could be forged, the meaningful conversations that could be had, and the ease there would be in relating to one another! (see for yourself here)

I think the issue common to both scenarios is people's fear of dealing with things that are too close to them. Often it is easier for people to talk about some rote debate on politics than about to Whom we pray every day. Maybe people are more self-conscious about their religion, and more afraid of dealing with it and truly facing these issues themselves (not that any encounter with a non-religious Jews will necessarily bring to light all of one's worst religious fears, but it could). Also, it's easier to talk with someone who, merely due to their language and culture is at a distance from you, then with a peer, for whom lack of communication cannot be blamed on language barriers. It is comforting having a barrier between you and the 'other', between you and what really matters to you, as opposed to having a real "heart to heart", which takes a lot of comfort and courage.

Sharing something close to you with someone close to you, who is different than you: more difficult- yes, but more rewarding and impacting - definitely.

The Sacrifices of Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur is the Super Bowl Sunday of Jewish Holidays - even people who aren't regulars or aren't affiliated in any way come to services on Yom Kippur. Which is probably the worst idea - their one exposure to Judaism is a day of fasting, boring prayer, no sexual activity, and more boring prayer. No wonder they don't come back for a whole year.

So how can one use this opportunity to give people an interesting and meaningful experience, something that might inspire them to come back again or to explore more about this thing in their life called Judaism? We decided that we would run explanatory services for Yom Kippur night. They would be the same, traditional services that we all know and love, but with explanations - not just the meaning of the words, but why we say them, what intentions then connote and how they're relevant to our personal lives.

With help from Joan and Michael G. (and NJOP's slogan) we made these really cool palm cards.

Thanks to Matt, ArielF, and others, we gave out nearly 500 of them on Locust Walk during the week leading up to YK. Of course, Hillel neglected to include us on their banner/informational flyers listing all the services, so we had to do all the advertising ourselves. Then Danny and I set to work planning out what we would say, how we would lead the services, and how it would actually happen. It took a bit of work, reading, thinking, talking with R' Lynn, and discussing, but after much planning, we were ready. I asked some people from the OCP to come - to lend their voices, to be another body, and to be a friendly and helping face for the unfamiliar people who came. Understandably, many turned down the offer - "Hart, this sounds great. But it's Yom Kippur, I can't give up my own Yom Kippur davening for this".

And so, Yom Kippur night, as everyone headed to their respective services, I headed to the 3rd floor of Hillel/Steinhardt Hall. We had piles of transliterated interlinear machzorim, piles of kippot, and sheets of reading materials. And people began to come. Some were OCP people who volunteered to help out or who wanted to experience it themselves. Some were people I had recently had over at one of my Shabbat dinners. And some were strangers, people I'd never, or barely ever seen before. By the end, there were over 50 people (although surprisingly many more guys than girls - anyone wanna venture a guess why?). We started by breaking into discussion groups, setting a comfortable stage before filing back into seats for the actual prayers. And as I started leading Kol Nidre, I couldn't help but notice the request we sing 3 times right before we start "אני מתירים להתפלל עם העברינים" - "we grant permission to pray with the sinners". What? Before the holiest of days we take a moment to welcome in all pray-ers, even the sinners among us? In some ways, it addresses all of us for we all have sinned, or as some translators prefer, we are all ephemeral. But the liturgy clearly does go out of its way, basing itself on a gemara which says that any public day of fasting and prayer that doesn't include the full gamut of practitioners of Judaism, doesn't count. Why? Because as we approach God on the day of Judgment and we work to rebuild our commitment and intimacy with Him, we are coming as part of God's people. And God's people includes all of His people, not just you or the people you like, but all who are part of our family, whether they play the part or not. And for God to show His love for us, should not we first show our love for our fellow brethren (and that doesn't just mean our roommates or siblings with whom we've fought). And so, especially on the Holiest day, we come to God with everything we got, and specifically call out and invite in those who might not have been in synagogue in a year.

With that spirit in mind, we went into the prayers. There were some meditations, some group singing, some role-playing, and some good old praying. At the end, people came up to us and told us this was their most meaningful davening in recent memory, or in their 4 years at Penn, or in their life. One person, whom we had hold the Torah for Kol Nidre, said with tears practically in his eyes that this was the first time he touched a Torah since his Bar mitzvah - and it meant the world to him. And the Orthodox people also came up to me and told me this was the most beautiful and inspiring davening they had ever been at. I can take only minimal credit for this, as it was Danny's wonderful, uplifting, and beautiful words which helped lead everyone to a relevant and explained davening.

Afterward, people would come up to me and say "Hart, that was so nice that you sacrificed your Yom Kippur davening to lead explanatory services for non-religious people". Sacrificed? Are they kidding me? Because we invited non-observant people to pray with us in fulfillment of the very words which we say? Because we took time to understand and think about the words we were about to say? Hmm, I'm just not sure. All I know is the korbanot in the Beit Hamikdash weren't the only Yom Kippur sacrifice that didn't happen this year (oh snap!). But seriously, this should hopefully be a year of continued connection between all of the Jewish people, among ourselves and to our Father in Heaven

Hello! My Name is Shabbat

I want to tell you about something we recently did at Penn - and which you can all do as well. Every fall, Penn has an activities fair, at which around 300 groups set up booths on Locust Walk (the main college thoroughfare) and thousands of people walk by, looking for things in which to get involved. There are political groups, fraternities, sports teams, performing arts groups, and religious groups - including your classic kiruv organizations. So I set up a table on Locust Walk (I registered too late, but they let me bring my own table) and I made it look like a Shabbat table - a nice white tablecloth, two silver candlesticks and lit candles, a challah board + 2 challot + a challah cover, a silver kiddush cup filled with grape juice, and little shot glasses of grape juice alongside it, and a plate of rugelach. At the foot of the table I had a big sign that said "HELLO! MY NAME IS SHABBAT", kinduv like a big nametag. Then I stood there, smiled, and waited.

And people came over - hundreds of people, mostly people I've never seen before. They would pass by, see the table, smile, see me smiling, walk over and we'd start talking. They'd ask what this was, and I'd say "It's a Shabbat table". Curious, they'd ask what my group was, and I'd say "It's just a bunch of students inviting other students for Shabbat means - old friends and new friends, like you!". Excited, some of them would ask how this is different then Hillel, as they went there once, or were thinking of maybe going there, and I'd say "I love Hillel and go there sometimes but it could be a little overwhelming. This is just a bunch of students in a more intimate, friendly atmosphere, sharing Shabbat for free on different places around campus - in the Quad, campus apartment, off-campus houses, etc." Then I'd say that if they wanted to get invited to meals, or find out more, they could sign up (I had a pad of paper and a pen).

In about four hours, I got over 115 people to sign, probably >90 of whom were not observant (and only 3 non-Jews). Most were freshmen, some of them were upperclassman; one guy said he was a senior, Jewish, never been to Shabbat before in college but thought this was the best idea ever and wants to come. We also had magnets which say "Wanna join us for a free, student-led Shabbat Dinner? Email us at freeshabbatdinners@gmail.com" (that email address forwards to me) and we gave out nearly 200 magnets. Now we just have to invite these people to meals  - which are easy, free, and numerous people in Orthodox Community at Penn have already told me they'd love to help.

The whole thing (not counting the magnets) cost around $25 - which is almost nothing! And 4 hours of smiling, which actually made my week, and went by way too fast. I don't know what your colleges have and how you could adapt this, but if you could, you really should. It's such a great way to meet people and invite them to meals - and it's not weird/proselytizing/intrusive at all - people will come to you if you're friendly and welcoming.

If you need any help or want to find out more, don't hesitate to ask!

End of the Summer; Beginning of a New Year

I want to add a comment to this post - remember they guy from the end of the story? Who said it was his best Shabbat ever and started learning and loving zemirot? So the day after I posted the story, when walking home from work (I happened to go a different way that day) I saw that guy standing on the street corner! He happened to be there waiting for someone else, and he was just as surprised and happy to see me. We caught up a bit from the summer, and reminisced of our good times last year. He told me that he's been learning harmonica and one of the first songs he learned was "Kah Ribon", and that he was looking forward to some Jewish jamming when we got back to Penn. He also said he was talking with another friend (Jewish, but not observant, whom I met when he began coming to Hillel) and they both were wishing they could come to my house for Shabbat over the summer! I told him that they really should've, and that next summer I'm making them come, even if they don't build up the courage to ask. After speaking for a while, his other friend came and we parted ways, promising to meet up when we got to Penn.

The reason I wanted to share this story (even though I'm reluctant to share personal stories) is because that is why I do all of this. That's why I'm telling these stories, writing guides, making brochures, going on speaking tours, fund-raising, etc - just so I can meet and become friend with people like this, and so other people will do so too. That's all I really care about and all that I want to do, give people meaningful, personal connections to Judaism and other Jews. Which is why I'm excited to get back to school tomorrow, so that after all this talking, thinking, and planning, I could go and meet new people, reconnect with old friends and share some good ol' Judaism with Jews. That's what it's really all about, and there's nothing better :) So yeah, I'm a bit nervous and feeling pressured about the coming year - but in a good way, with all of its potential and knowing that with God's help, things will only continue to grow.

Pesach - "Let My People Stay" et al.

(parts I, II, III)
I just want to sum up some final thoughts on the whole Pesach experience. First I'll post a survey Hillel put out to ~120 students who came to Hillel for Seders. Most of those polled do not regularly eat at Hillel, and over 80% did not go to other activities (services, programs) at Hillel, which is an indication they were not Hillel regulars. Of those polled, around 25% had gone to one of our student-led Seders. The polling options were: strongly agree, agree, somewhat agree, disagree, strongly disagree.

I really enjoyed the student lead seder:

Freshmen/Sophomore:  strongly agree - 75%;  agree 25%

Jr/Sr:  strongly agree - 64.3%;  agree - 21.4%;  somewhat agree - 7.1%;  strongly disagree 7.1%

I felt welcome at the student lead seder:

F/S:  strongly agree - 100% (!!)

J/S:  strongly agree -  85.7%; agree - 14.3%

The leader of the student lead seder was well prepared:

F/S: strongly agree - 75%; agree - 16.7%; somewhat agree - 8.3%

J/S:  strongly agree - 57.1%;  agree - 42.9%

I learned new things at the student lead seder:

F/S:  strongly agree - 58.3%;  agree - 33.3%;  somewhat agree - 8.3%

J/S:  strongly agree - 71.4%;  agree - 7.1%;  somewhat agree - 14.3%;  disagree 7.1%

I met new people at the student lead seder:

F/S:  strongly agree - 66.7%:  agree - 25%;  disagree - 8.3%

J/S:  strongly agree - 78.6%;  somewhat agree - 14.3%;  strongly disagree - 7.1%

We didn't really need these results to prove anything to ourselves; these results just confirmed to the Hillel staff what we already knew.  They were very impressed, especially considering that they were worried at the onset whether we'd know how to talk to unaffiliated students (please, I talk to unaffiliated students for breakfast!). And to all our (theoretical) discreditors who said it couldn't be done, we did it! We led Seders that were meaningful, traditional, welcoming, engaging. And a lot of mitzvahs were done too! Just some students sharing a good ol' Jewish experience with other Jewish students...

Another important thing that came out of this experience was the message it showed to the community. We showed that as religious Jews, caring for other Jews and caring about their Judaism is something that we value and that we attempt to address. And not just when it's convenient and self-serving, but even when it takes sacrifices and hard work and time and effort. My brother told a very touching dvar Torah at my family's Seder  - he talked about how the Chasidim speak of not 4 sons, but 5 sons, with the 5th son being the one who doesn't even come to the Seder. Hart, he said, is at Penn leading Seders for all those 5th sons. I thought that was the most beautiful thing ever, and it showed how some people really understood this. We tried to talk this up a lot, at Pen and beyond, so that other people would see the importance and might be encouraged/inspired to attempt similar endeavors in the future. In fact, a few people at Penn told me that they were definitely going to join us next year. One student who went home told me that he told his parents "Mom, Dad - I love you and I love Seders at home but here's what Hart is doing at Penn this year and next year I'm going to join him". Towards this end, we had the idea of making shirts which we could wear around Penn - the shirts would say "Let My People Stay - Pesach@Penn '09". Besides for being mekayem the rule that when 10+ Jews are together for 2+ days there is a chiyuv to make a shirt/sweatshirt, it would also be a great way of publicizing and spreading the message of which we all were a part of. (Sponsorship opportunities are still available - email hartlevine@gmail.com for more info.)

Now, as good as the Seders were, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the rest of the chag. First of all, we got to lead all of davening (I think I led shacharit, hallel, musaf, layned, read Shir haShirim [my favorite], and gave a dvar Torah) - which was kinduv fun. We also got to be gabbis, run bikkur cholim, give shiurs, lead Shabbat kiddush at Hillel, and host the tisch. But by far the best was all the meals at Hillel. While normally there are all these Orthodox kids overwhelming the place, over the three-day yomtov it was just the 14 of us, and dozens of newcomers - people who only come to Hillel's kosher dining hall 7 days a year - on Passover! So every meal I got to sit with a few new people, either by joining their table, or inviting them to mine, or speaking to them in line, or complaining with them about the monotonous food choices. By the end I probably knew almost every person sitting down for meals and I had made over 30 new Facebook friends! And because many of the same people would keep coming back and because we were always there, I really got to bond with a lot of these people over the course of many meals. It was really so much fun, and it gave me a taste of what it'd be like to be in a small Jewish community. It was also really depressing when the mass of Orthodox kids came back after yomtov and took over the dining hall again (just kidding guys ;) ).

Oh, and the tisch! So Friday night we figured we'd add to the load of fun we were having and have a tisch. My grandparents had sent me a package with kosher-for-Passover snacks (as a token of their thinking of me and missing me at their Seder - thanks B&G!) and here was a perfect chance to break those out. We were finishing dinner in Hillel when we had decided to have the tisch and so we figured we'd invite some of the people who were around. Normally these tisches attract only Orthodox kids, and only a certain type of them, but here was a great opportunity to invite some people from a wider crowd and we weren't about to miss it. Sure enough, a whole group of Conservative students came, brought along by a mutual friend :) And what a tisch it was - we went through some of the songs from the Haggadah, some classic Israeli songs, some typical tisch songs, all of kabbalat Shabbat (since we didn't sing it at ma'ariv) and more. By the end we were singing some Beatles, but I think that was all of the Kedem wine kicking in. But it was so beautiful - people who otherwise might have never shared in such an experience found out that they knew and loved many of the same songs, and that it's so much more beautiful when you sing them together. We also got to make new friends, and they were so grateful for us hosting them in our room - a win-win situation for all of us, and for the Jewish people.

Okay fine, by the end of the 3 days we were a little sick of each other and of the food, but it was an experience I wouldn't give up for the world. For us, for the multitudes of people that we reached, and for the entire community, this was an unforgettable Pesach. Next year we should really all be in ירושלים, but if not, I know where I'll be.

You're all welcome to join, at Penn or at your own college/community. Towards that end, we'll be posting resources, ideas, tips on what worked/didn't work on this site. It's empty now but you can check back closer to Pesach - or you can start adding to it!

Pesach, take 2 - "L'harot Et Atzmo Ke'ili Hu Yatza Mimitzrayim"

After the overwhelming success of the first Seder, how could things get any better? Wait 'til you hear this story...

So the second Seder - we planned it a little different based on the number of people expected to attend, which was much smaller than the previous night's hundreds. Furthermore, for the 14 of us, it took a lot of preparation and effort to get through that first Seder, something we weren't sure we'd be up to in the same capacity the next night. So we decided that we would do one joint Seder, with the 14 of us and whoever else wanted to join. It would be a no-nonsense Seder, where each of us could share what we wanted to without having to worry about people who didn't know what Passover was, etc. And sure enough, by the time we sat down to start, there were over 40 people there. Many were returnees from our Seders the previous night, some were people who had been home the first night, and maybe some were those who heard the rave reviews and had to check it out for themselves (just kidding :)). We arranged a few tables together so that we had all 40+ of us around one big rectangular table, with the different leader scattered around the table. Somehow I was chosen to lead the leaders, and thus we began.

Though bigger than we had expected, the Seder went at a very enjoyable pace, with some interesting forays into the philosophical facts of the Seder and some interesting point which were left unanswered the night before. It was also good because different people got to add their highlights from the previous night's Seder, making this somewhat of a "best of" Seder. It was going great - people were getting into it, great conversations were being had, and we were on a roll.

Suddenly, in the middle of magid - one woman stormed up, ran to the wall and tore off a picture. (Backdrop - in an attempt to lend some creativity and color to their Seder, one of the groups had put up pictures of different people/things around the room. The plan was that for the '4 sons', people would stand next to whichever picture they thought represented a particular son [e.g. WalMart could be the wicked son for stealing small businesses' business]). So it turns out there was one picture up of Che Guevara. And this woman's family, 10 of whom were sitting at our Seder (including grandmother, parents, married kid and husband, teenage girl and boyfriend), had escaped from Cuba. She grabbed the picture, stormed back to the table and started yelling: "Do you know who this is? Do you think you know who this man is?" Dead silence. Except for some feeble attempts to explain why the picture was there, which were quickly quashed by her yelling. "Do you think this is funny?", she continued, presumably mistaking one girl's rushing out of the room in tears for laughter. "This is disgusting, that you dare put up this picture at your Seder. Oh, you think you're so cool with your freedom and your Seder - but you don't even know who this is. How would you like if I put a picture of Hitler at your Seder? Well, this man is our Hitler." Then the grandmother got up and began her tirade - quieter, and in her Spanish accent, but so much more powerful: "My husband was in jail for thuurty years because of this man. You don't know what he did to us, and how much we suffered." They went on for a good 5-10 minutes, and we were just sitting there in shock for what seemed like an eternity, with no idea how to proceed.

Then I had an idea - in one of the dead silences, I started speaking: "You know, the Passover Seder is such a hard thing for so many of us - here's this story that happened thousands of years ago to our ancestors and we're supposed to retell it. But how are we supposed to connect to it, and relive something which transpired so long ago? It's a very difficult process. We're fortunate to have here with us people who went through their own story of slavery, who went on their personal journey from slavery to freedom, almost in our lifetimes, and before their very own eyes. My grandmother is from Colombia (of course I said it with the South American accent) and they also went through kidnappings and hardships to get here, so I know what that is like. It's a sad thing but it's also an amazing opportunity for us here - maybe you could share more of your story, and what it was like to go through your Exodus from slavery to freedom and through that you can help all of us better relive and understand what Pesach is all about." They loved it - "Yes, that's exactly what it was like! This one time...". And they went on for a few more minutes going through some stories, with Che as Pharaoh and their grandfather as the Moses who escaped death and led a family to freedom. And just like that, things were back to normal and the Seder proceeded, only this time at least some people were feeling it a little  more deeply.

What was it that calmed them down? How did we "save the Seder" (according to the married daughter, who afterward thanked me for dealing with her difficult family - and suggested I go into politics)? By making it real, by connecting it to people's real lives - because that is what people connect to. It also was no longer about us versus them, but it was about all of us sharing in this experience, and empowering them to be able to share with us their wealth of relevant meaning. And it wasn't just about their story, it was also about my family's story, and the story of the Jewish people thousands of years ago, being re-experienced anew ("b'chol dor vador..."). I can truthfully say that between these people and the African American convert from the night before, I was never at Seders which better fulfilled the goal of " "l'harot et atzmo ke'ili hu yatza mimitzrayim".

Pesach - "B'etzem Hayom Hazeh"

Last we saw our team of heroes they were hard at work preparing sessions, delving into the depths of the haggadah, and working on their discussion-leading skills. And then the day was here - the 14th of Nisan. So while the rest of the Jewish community piled out, we dug in and prepared ourselves. We got some last minute much-needed shmurah matza (thanks Ambroses!), invited some last people to the Facebook event we had made, made some photocopies of pictures and banners, and as the evening began to creep in, we made out way to Hillel where we would be running our Seders.

The way we arranged it was for the 5 groups to each have a separate room on the 2nd and 3rd floors of Hillel where we would have our Seders. We then had two greeters at the front door - so that when the swarms of hundreds of students and community members walked through the doors we could direct them either to the 'big, communal, (boring) Seder straight ahead - or to the small, student-led Seders upstairs'. (In retrospect, one problem was that some students thought that meant they would have to lead the Seders!) And given those options, people did chose to come to our Seders - our 5 Seders filled up at around 20 people each! But it did take a while for people to trickle in, which was good considering that we had to wait a while, as Hillel called the Seders for an hour before tzeis (which is the earliest halachikly possible time). We ended up sitting around our tables, starting conversations, meeting each other, and giving people a chance to skim through the haggadahs (they were a big hit!) - not bad ways to kill time at all!

[From here on in, I will restrict myself to speaking about the Seder I participated in, as my engrossment therein led me to miss out on what was happening at the other Seders.] And so we started. Lu, JHS and I who were leading the Seder divided ourselves among the crowd - and what a crowd we had! By my count there was one African-American convert, two non-Jews (one of whom knew Hebrew better than most people at the table), one girl who had recently found out that she's Jewish (yes, the one from the previous blog post - she's come a long way since then), a freshman friend from my Jewish History class (maybe I'll talk about that class another time), three other freshmen guys, a middle-aged gentlemen from Allentown, and a few more people for a total of 15. There was one first-timer, two second-timers, a bunch for whom this was their first time in Hillel, and most of the remainder for whom this would be their first Seder longer than half-an-hour. We had our task cut out for us.

And it was great. We started going though the Seder, explaining what each step was, throwing in some interesting tidbits for discussion and an occasional classic song. We had each (Lu, JHS, and myself) prepared different things to talk about and so we each led discussions at different parts of the Seder - such as poverty in the world (halves and have-nots) and the social and historical background of the Seder ceremony (the Greco-Roman symposium). We also had a few ice-beakers in the beginning, just going around the room and people introducing themselves and their personal Seder history. What I thought really broke the floodgates open was at Mah Nishtana - we did this activity where we had to go around having a conversation using only questions ('How are you?' 'Are you talking to me?' 'Didn't you hear me the first time?' etc.). The point was to illustrate the power of questions, but what it also did was add some levity to the table, as people fumbled for questions and we all laughed at each other. From that point in, things just kept getting better and we started really bonding as a group. At one point we asked people what made them feel free, and one girl said that she left her blackberry at home so she could feel free of its mental burden. If that's not the closest definition to freedom in today's modern society, I don't know what it! When we talked about connecting to the past through retelling, our resident African-American answered someone's doubts on that method by sharing how his family passed down its story of slavery in the not-so-distant past, and how that made it real for him. It was perfect! And without even a glance at a clock, we went on, reading through the stories, pointing out interesting or funny pictures, and different people sharing their thoughts. For the most part it was the three of us leading the discussions, as is wont to happen, but there were definitely many parts where other people jumped in to participate. Then, before we knew it, it was time for the meal and we spent a good chunk of time just eating our fill, talking, decompressing. I was so nice just to be able to talk to each other, share family stories, and hear people's stories of why they never came to Hillel before, or what their previous misconceptions were. We then had a suspenseful hunt for the afikomen (the Hebrew-speaking Indian found it, and won a plastic piggy-bank!), and someone came in dressed up as Eliyahu Hanavi. It was funny, but most of our previous fears (e.g. How would we explain "sh'foch chamotcha"? What if people didn't want to eat the marror?) were never even issues - things just went smoothly and easily. It seemed like people just wanted to keep going. We then finished off the final two cups of wine (getting through four cups of Kedem wine was also a great social lubricant :) ) and people still wanted to sing some more songs. So we went through "Go Down Moses", "Who knows one?", and we acted out "Chad Gadya".

By now the effects of the wine were starting to kick in, and it was time to go. That's when I looked at the clock and saw that nearly 5 hours had passed since we first sat down at the table! 5 hours! And the only person who left early was the guy from Allentown - but only because he had to catch his train back home. The only time complaints we got were from the dining staff who wanted to serve us our food when we were still discussing, and from students who said they wished we'd gone even slower. Even slower than 4+ hours?! Weirdos... Even after we cleared the table and were winding down, a bunch of the people were still hanging around, remembering people's names, meeting people from the other Seders, coordinating when they would next come back to Hillel. From what I saw and heard from the other Seders, they were all just as successful, if not more so - there were great conversations being had, fantastic activities being carried out, and outlandish Pesach songs being sung. There were relationships being forged, Jewish identities taking shape, and a powerful commemoration of Pesach being celebrated. By the time we let the building that night, I felt like we had truly gone on quite a journey through the unique and memorable experience of the Passover Seder.

To skip a few days ahead, one of those students who had never come to Hillel (nor anything Jewish-related in college) began consistently coming to the Orthodox Community's weekly Sunday Night Learning, where he was paired up with a chavrutah. Another of those students came back for dinner the next week, and me being the only person he knew there, he sat with me, together with some of my other friends, whom I introduced to my new friend. And the guy from Allentown? I guess he had such a good time because he came back the second night for our Seder again (more on that here). Before he left the second Seder, he came up to me and thanked me for giving meaning to his holiday for the first time in his life. And all this just from our Seder; the other Seder groups have their own stories of people who hence started coming to SNL, or had Jewish-identity changing experiences. I'll post the full response survey later, but I think these personal stories mean just as much as some numbers on a chart.

Parshat Shoftim and Communal Responsibility

I want to share with you a dvar torah on the parsha which I think is very relevant. Last year I shared it with the Orthodox Community at Penn the first weekend of school and I found it very instrumental in spreading these ideas, raising these discussions, and promoting this type of activity around the community. Feel free to do the same with your communities.

In the end of Parshat Shoftim, we have the story of eglah arufah - what happens when an unidentified dead body is found in a field. The required response includes decapitating a calf, as well as involving the z'keinim, the elder leaders of the local community. We make them go out and wash their hands over the calf and say "yadeinu lo shafchu et hadam hazah v'eineinu lo ra'u" - "our hands didn't spill this blood and our eyes didn't see it". The mishna in Sotah (quoted by Rashi) asks, incredulously -  how come we require such of the z'keinim? Do we really think these people - rabbis, leaders, elders - are murderers, responsible for this tragic loss??

So the mishna goes on to describe the scenario that probably preceded this unfortunate occurrence: some guy, a stranger, came to the local community. Probably wasn't wearing a kippah, and he didn't know anyone. And no one welcomed him. No one said hello to him, no one went over to help him feel comfortable, and no one offered him a seat at their table. Rashi in the mishna comments: "No one made him feel like part of a community." Sure enough, this guy got turned off, left the community, and somewhere down the line he was killed. So we turn to that local community and we do hold them accountable - we demand of them to take responsibility. And we make them swear that they opened their eyes and arms, welcomed people in and that they would never let something like that happen. And it's davka the z'keinim, the elders and leaders of the community, people who are the religious role models, and are comfortable in the community - those are the people whom God holds responsible.

The parallels are clear. At Penn (for example, but I hear it is similar at many colleges communities) the first Friday night of the year draws almost double the normal crowd to Hillel - maybe 800 people. But within a few weeks it drops down to half that number, and many of those original people never come back. Not to Hillel, and likely not to anything Jewish for the rest of college, and unfortunately maybe for the rest of their life. Why? Because no one welcomed them in, no one sat with them, no one provided them with a friendly contact, a warm, meaningful experience, nor any reason to come back. So they don't. And they join the growing ranks of young American Jewry who are disenchanted and disengaged from Judaism. As the religious members of this community, we have to look at ourselves truthfully and ask ourselves: Do we open our eyes to this all-too-common phenomenon in our community? Are our unwelcoming arms and unaware eyes responsible for this travesty? Sure, it's the first week, and everyone wants to see their friends and welcome the new freshman in the community - but there are really Jewish people and souls at stake. You'll have all year to talk to your friends - but you might only have one chance to give these people a meaningful connection to Judaism. On a final note, one of my rabbis points out that there is a kri/k'tiv (where a word is spelled one way but read differently) on this passuk - the word 'spilled' is read "shafchu" (plural) but it's spelled in the Torah as "shafcha" (singular) - showing that while this is a communal responsibility, in the end of the day it is really each and every individual's responsibility. Sure it's Hillel's and Chabad's, and the OCP/BOO/Shalhevet/Kedma/Yavneh/CJL's - but it's also yours. If this is something one cares about (and as caring Jews, we should), one can't wait for someone else to do it - there is no one else, and you are every much as responsible and capable, each person in his or her own way. It doesn't take much, only being aware and caring about other people.

Hopefully this can be something about which our communities and each and every one of us can learn to be more sensitive. The more people involved in this, aware of this, and speaking about this, the greater the impact there could be. It is an important process, and it starts with one person at a time.


p.s. Similar to the way in this week's parsha that the Torah excludes newlyweds and those newly housed from going out to fight, I am inclined to excuse freshman from this topic, as for people who are just trying to find their own place, it's hard to open themselves up to other newcomers. Though freshman usually do have the most access to new people, and uninvolved freshman are often the ones most looking for connections. But for upperclassmen who recognize everyone, know everything and are comfortable in the community, there is no excuse.

The First Meal

Ah, the first meal. I remember it like yesterday... in the first meeting, we had decided upon making a Shabbat meal as a means to share a meaningful Jewish experience with friends who were never privy to its beauty. I asked if anyone had people in mind to invite and one girl blurted out that practically her entire dorm hall was Jewish but not religious. And just like that, before anyone else could add any suggestions of their own, we had finalized the invite list for the meal. For funding, I had been directed to an organization called "Project Shabbat" which pretty much gives money to religious kids on college campuses to make Shabbat meals for students who don't normally 'do' Shabbat - perfect! A few emails and phone calls later, we had the promise of monetary reimbursement for the meal. Later that week, I sent out an email to everyone I had spoken to, asking for volunteers to help cook for the meal. Due in no small part to the amazing people I am privileged to know at Penn, we soon had a whole meal signed up to be cooked. The next few weeks were filled with anxiety - when would the meal be (Friday, February 22nd @8pm), who's coming (we finally finalized on 5 Shabbat-observant students to come - enough to lead the meal and discussions at the meal, but not too many that it overwhelms the non-Shabbat observers; we then had to make sure all the invited people were actually coming), where the meal was going to be (we decided on one of the lounges in the Quad - local for the mostly-freshman guest list), etc. And then it was Friday afternoon, the food was cooked and I left for kabbalat Shabbat with my heart beating fast.

I remember it being a very inspiring kabbalat Shabbat, and with people around me giving me wishes of good luck and godspeed, I was encouraged, but all the more nervous. After davening, I ran back to my room with a friend who was also helping make the meal to retrieve the food. On the way to my room, we saw a mutual friend of ours on his way towards Hillel. We had both met him when he began coming to Hillel a few times, but not being part of any religious or social groups, we were two of the few people who he knew there. Knowing that, and sensing his fear of going there alone and missing out on what we were up to, we invited him along. After packing up the food in suitcases, we quickly brought it over to the Quad, where the meal was scheduled. By the entranceway to the Quad, I saw someone else who I recognized from the few times I had met him at Hillel. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was waiting for his laundry. "Wanna come to a Shabbat meal?", I asked him. "Where is it?", he responded, seemingly not so interested in going out of his way somewhere. "It's right here in the Quad, in the Goldberg lounge", I answered. "Woah! That's right where I live! Really? A Shabbat meal in the Quad? Yeah, I'm coming!" - and just like that we picked up another guest. And then we were there, the table was set, the food was laid out and 15 of us were sitting around the Shabbat table.

It's hard to go into every detail of the meal (how we explained things, what conversations were had, etc.) but the details were key, and they worked out very well. Just to highlight a few, we borrowed a sparkling silver cup for Kiddush, adding to the exquisite grandeur of the experience (thanks Binyamin - I told you it would be worth it) and we intermingled the observant and non-observant students to promote interaction and discussions. It was an interesting bunch - 5 observant students, 1 non-Jewish missionary, a few totally unaffiliated students and the remainder were students who grew up going to Jewish schools but never really got into Judaism in college. Because of this, singing the songs of Shalom Aleichem and Kiddush were great, as most people could sing along, even if they hadn't done so in quite a while. We went through the different ceremonies of the meal along with very brief explanations and then we got to the food, over which the table broke into smaller group discussions. Most of the people stayed for a good two hours and before leaving, told us that they had a great time and would love to do it again. We could tell that it was a great experience for these people - they enjoyed it, they got to meet other Jewish students over the timeless Jewish meeting place of Shabbat, and they got to reconnect to a bit of what they might've missed and reminisced from home.

What was even more remarkable was that three students stayed behind for close to 4 hours - they wanted to sing z'mirot, and talk more about Judaism on campus, and get involved in social and educational programming and just talk more. I mean, who stays at Shabbat dinners for 4 hours?! One of those students (who I had never seen/met before) told her story: she had grown up kinduv-Conservative and Shabbat was something her family would do. So when she came to college as a freshman, the first Friday night she showed up at Hillel to try Shabbat. And she hated it - there were too many people, it was too unfriendly, too religious, no one said hello to her, she got turned off and she never came back. Until tonight, when her hallmate invited her to this meal and here she was. She said she couldn't believe how beautiful Shabbat could be, and with other students, at college; she wanted to do this next week, every week, and invite all her friends. We told her that we couldn't do this every week but that if she came to Hillel next Friday night, we'd be there and introduce her to our friends. She agreed, and she came back the next week, and met a whole bunch of nice, friendly people (they do exist, it's just sometimes hard for people to find them). Since then, this girl has gone on a journey of reconnecting to Judaism that is largely between her and God, helped in part by support of the wonderful people who make up the Jewish community at Penn. She is now a fully observant and highly religious and active member of the Orthodox Community at Penn, and it is my great honor to count her among my friends. I'm not saying that this one meal was the the magical key that changed her life, but I think it's clear as to the role it played in the greater process.

Another one of the students who stayed behind was the one who we dragged along when we saw him walking to Hillel. Since that meal, he also started coming to Hillel more and becoming more involved in Jewish activities. The first Shabbat of the following year, he saw me at Shabbat dinner at Hillel and we started talking. He told me that the previous year as a freshman, he didn't come to Hillel in the very beginning (maybe due to discomfort, or needing time to find his place, or who knows what), which he afterward realized put him at a disadvantage in terms of being part of different groups or communities. He felt, rightfully so, that everyone there knew each other and that people divided up into their little cliques, leaving someone like him alone on the outside. But, he said, you and a few other people (not coincidentally, members of the then-unofficial 'Heart to Heart') would always come over to me when I was sitting alone at Hillel and talk to me, sit with me, and make me feel like I mattered. "You don't know what that did to me, and how that affected me", he said. "And that Shabbat meal last year in the Quad - that was the best Shabbat of my life. All of that has really inspired me to come here more, become more knowledgeable about and more familiar with Judaism - so that I can be to others what you were to me." He then started coming every Friday night after that to make kiddush with me and sing z'mirot (he is a wonderful singer and a member of one of Penn's prestigious singing-and-acting groups) and he loved learning and singing new z'mirot. He told me his goal for the year was to learn how to bentch, like his grandfather used to do, so after dinner one Friday night, we sat for an hour going through all of bentching, culminating in singing "Na'ar Hayiti" - a family tradition of mine that he loved.

And all this just because one Sunday evening some students decided to make a Shabbat meal, and on one Friday night 5 religious students shared the beauty of Shabbat with some new friends.

I can't even make this stuff up. But I can, and have, made it happen again. And so can you. I've been writing up a guide to Shabbat dinners like these, based on a year-and-a-half of experience and over a dozen similarly styled Shabbat dinners - check it out here. Feel free to use whatever you want from it, and to add to it (that's why it's a wiki) - obviously not everything I say will work for you but some of it might be useful. But more importantly, sit down with a bunch of similarly thinking friends and think how you can translate this into your setting. It starts with that, and God only knows where it will go from there.