Even in Darkness, Jewish Camp Reminds Us to Pursue Joy

From Israeli hostages remaining in captivity to the rising fever of global antisemitism, the heartbreak of Oct. 7 and the days since feels endless. We cannot ignore this pain. But neither can we let ourselves drown under its weight. Now is the time to embrace joy, and the hundreds of Jewish camps in full swing across North America are teaching us how. 

Right now, over 180,000 campers and counselors are filling their days with fun and friendship, creating Jewish memories that will last a lifetime. I know this because 50 years ago this summer, in Wisconsin’s remote northern woods, I began to forge my Jewish identity in a camp community infused with Jewish joy.

At Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, I felt embraced at Friday night services on the shores of Lake Buckatabon, where golden sunsets refracted off the water, through the pine trees, and carried our community into Shabbat. I whispered, laughed, confided, and cried in the sacred space of my bunk. In that spartan wooden cabin, I met some of my closest friends, including one who, more than 49 years later, recently celebrated with me at my grandson’s bris.

I recognize that this summer isn’t normal. All of us, and all of our camp communities, continue to struggle with the trauma and grief that began on Oct. 7. Many of the over 25,000 college students serving as counselors have experienced antisemitism on campus. Close to 3,000 Israeli shlichim and displaced Israeli teens are spending time at camp after a long stretch of war. 

Yet camp proves that we can pursue joy in tough times without denying that times are tough. As young campers in the mid-70s, my friends and I weren’t immune to the turbulence of Vietnam, the Yom Kippur War and Watergate, just as today’s campers aren’t immune to the world around them. But camp provided me with a reprieve, a function it’s serving for young Jews today even after Oct. 7. 

Early reports from this summer reveal that camps are effectively navigating their roles as places to have difficult conversations, communities of in-person connections, and bubbles that offer respite. Little of the tension and rancor of campus has spilled over into our camp communities.

Camps aren’t just showing us the power of joy. They’re teaching us how to pursue it: by disconnecting from technology and the news and connecting to our creativity and one another.

My experience at camp was tech-free because in the 1970s, there wasn’t much tech from which to be free. But even today, camps are dialing down the noise of the outside world. They’re acting as islands of in-person interaction where young people addicted to screens can rediscover their attention, directing it inward toward their feelings or outward toward people and nature.

Like Shabbat, camp reminds us that disconnecting does not mean disengaging from community. It’s the opposite: We disconnect so that we can be more present with loved ones. In this regard, Jewish camps reveal and model the importance of sacred, communal spaces.

Like Shabbat, camp reminds us that disconnecting does not mean disengaging from community. It’s the opposite: we disconnect so that we can be more present with loved ones. In this regard, Jewish camps reveal and model the importance of sacred, communal spaces.

Over the past nine months, many Jews and Israelis have been mocked or dismissed for bringing up their pain, no matter their politics on Israel. These young people, like all of us, need opportunities to heal around people they are confident will accept them. Camps have long reported that shared Jewish identity enables campers and staff to explore complex emotions and opinions in a way they can’t anywhere else — and the same has been true this summer so far.

In a time of communal crisis, camps are also reaffirming that sometimes we need to remove our fingers from the pulse of the world’s trauma. Instead, we can listen more closely to our breathing and the birds by the lake. We can cheer and stomp in frenetic song and dance sessions. And we can step into new roles that expand our character, whether it’s growing as a communal leader or discovering a love of theater, both of which I took part in as a camper 50 years ago.

In their emphasis on tech-free spaces, the wonders of nature, in-person community, and fun activities such as sports, ceramics, hiking, sailing, and drama, camps provide a roadmap for pursuing joy, especially in difficult times. This isn’t a joy that papers over our problems. Rather, it replenishes the strength we need to tackle them.

Jeremy J. Fingerman is the CEO of Foundation for Jewish Camp.