As parents know, children grow in the summer. They may well be growing in small increments all year long, but somehow, under the summer sun, they tend to shoot up noticeably, in tandem with the grass and flowers.

At Oorah’s GirlZone and BoyZone summer camps, the kind of growth children experienced was measurable not just in inches, but in important, meaningful spiritual strides. Taking each child “as is” and nurturing his or her growth was the entire agenda of this summer program, although that agenda was well embedded in a non-stop schedule of sports, outings and activities.

This was GirlZone’s third season and BoyZone’s premier. For both camps, this summer was the first at a beautiful new facility in Gilboa, New York, high in the Catskills on a former family resort. Away from the city, amid rolling hills and lush farmland, the children and counselors had the perfect environment in which to climb together toward higher heights.

Camp, of course, doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The changes it wrought were in many cases quietly developing for Oorah’s children during the school year, during which they were sponsored and guided by Oorah every step of the way, But when these children are given a totally kosher environment, a real Shabbos, meaningful davening, close mentoring and constant inspiration, consistently for an entire month, the dormant seeds of love for Torah and mitzvos finally have their chance to blossom fully.

We feel privileged to have succeeded in creating an environment that influenced so many children in a positive direction. We are pleased to share these stories with you, our supporters, for our success is your success, and our nachas is yours.

One Boy Keeps One Shabbos

If there’s a newspaper in Shomayim, this was the big, bold headline of the day as the last BoyZone Shabbos came to its conclusion. Like many Oorah campers, this boy came from a non-Shomer Shabbos home, even though he attends yeshiva and knows the basics of what Shabbos observance requires. It just always seemed beyond him. It was too difficult, too confining, and certainly out of step with the Saturday activities of his family and friends.

At BoyZone, the atmosphere was saturated with Shabbos spirit. The schedule was a Shabbos schedule, with davening, meals, singing and relaxation – plus a little one-on-one Torah learning geared to the campers’ individual levels. This boy enjoyed the experience, but he would not give into it entirely. He would not relinquish his last hold on his secular idea of “the weekend.” In his small ways, even at camp, he violated the laws that preserve the integrity of Shabbos.

But on that last Shabbos, this boy came to his counselor, Elimelech Kleinman, and revealed his fabulous accomplishment. That day, he said, for the first time in his life, he was keeping Shabbos completely. And he loved it, and he didn’t find it difficult, and he wanted to continue keeping Shabbos when he got home.

His counselor realized that in this boy’s life, this was a momentous achievement. He quickly informed Rav Chaim Mintz, who was present for this last BoyZone Shabbos, of the situation. A short while later, the camp gathered for Havdalah. But before the blessings were recited, Rav Chaim pounded the table for attention and made an announcement: One boy had kept one Shabbos, this one time, and he has announced his intention to continue keeping Shabbos.

The room erupted into applause. The campers broke out singing and dancing. As the noise of celebration shook the room, the boy himself could have had no doubt that his one carefully observed Shabbos was shaking the Heavens, as well.

Keeping Her Word

It happened two years ago at GirlZone, but the impact of the episode remains on counselor Dassi Kolko’s mind. The camp schedule allowed a half-hour after dinner for open discussions between small groups of counselors and campers. One evening, Dassi settled down with her two campers to address whatever was on their minds. One camper said she had a question, but she couldn’t ask it. Dassi persisted, reassuring the girl that no question was off-limits. Finally, the girl sputtered out her challenge: “I want proof.”

“Proof of what?” Dassi asked.

“That Mashiach is really coming.”

Dassi recalls the utter surprise the question stirred in her. It was by no means the typical question, and she was not at all prepared to answer it. Therefore, she responded as she had been advised: “I don’t know the answer,” she told the girl, “but I will find out and get back to you.”

“Promise me you’ll get back to me,” the camper urged.

The camper kept pushing to hear the words “I promise,” until finally, her counselor relented. Then Dassi asked the camper why whe was so insistent on securing a promise.

“Because I’ve asked this question so many times, and every time I ask it, people say they’ll get back to me and no one ever does. I don’t believe they have an answer. In fact, right before I left, my mother asked me if I wanted to go back to public school and go back to eating treif. I thought to myself that if I don’t get someone to answer this question, I can’t believe anything, and I would go back to public school this year.”

Now Dassi knew she had a vital mission on her hands. She went straight to Rabbi Davidowitz, the camp rabbi, and explained the situation. He gave her an answer that was suited to the camper’s level of understanding.

“He told me to go straight to the camper’s bunk and call her out and speak to her,” Dassi recalls. “But it was after curfew and I was positive the counselor would not let me take her out. Rabbi Davidowitz told me that if the counselor didn’t allow the girl out, I should tell her that he would come himself and take her out.”

Dassi went to the girl’s bunk, and as she expected, the counselor was reluctant to let the girl break curfew. But the importance of the situation was explained to her, and the camper was soon walking off with the Dassi, deep in discussion.
“She was amazed that I had gotten an answer for her,” Dassi said. “She said that even though I had promised, she still hadn’t believed me.”

When the conversation was over, the camper told Dasi that she now knew how she would answer her mother’s question about returning to public school. “I’m going to tell her that I never want to go back to public school, and I never want to eat treif again.”

Three Times Daily

One feature of both GirlZone and BoyZone is the supportive atmosphere it provides for children to share their excitement about spiritual growth. There are not too many places where a child can stand up in front of a hundred or so peers and state without embarrassment that he or she has taken on a new observance of given up an aveirah. But Oorah’s camps provide the security and warmth that allow these stories to flow.

One evening, a boy stood up and told his friends that he had taken upon himself a commitment to daven three times a day. In school, he had davened shacharis with his classmates, but mincha and maariv had never been part of his schedule. In fact, he had considered the practice impossible – a heavy burden that would constrain him every day of his life.

But at BoyZone, he saw how easily and naturally three tefillos a day could fit into his schedule. Not only was itdoable, it was a positive part of his life. He would maintain it when he went home, he enthusiastically announced.

Another boy, also a day school student, disclosed how he had dismissed the idea of making brochos on his food. How could a person think up a Hebrew phrase to say every time he wanted to put a piece of food in his mouth? Even though he had learned the brochos in school, he had never considered making them an integral part of his life.But now, inspired by the atmosphere at BoyZone and strengthened by what he had learned there, he had become vigilant about saying a brocha before eating.

Early To Rise

As is the case with many teenagers, one particular BoyZone camper found it difficult to pull himself out of bed in the morning. But he was a teenager, already obligated to daven with a minyan. His counselor kept trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to help him live up to his obligation. The counselor tried talking to him, encouraging him, cajoling him, but nothing worked.

Finally, a counselor/camper volleyball game presented an ideal chance to move things along. The counselor approached the camper and challenged him to accept a bet. If the campers won the game, the camper could sleep in every morning and the counselor would not say another word about it. But if the counselors won, the camper would be obligated to attend minyan on time.

The camper lost the bet, but won something far more valuable. He was obviously ready to meet his obligation, but needed an impetus to let go of his resistance. Losing the volleyball game was the excuse he needed. From that day on, he was among the first to arrive at shul. He discovered that he could do it, and was proud to be counted among the reliable members of BoyZone’s morning minyan.

Doing it For the Ribono Shel Olam

Inspiration is a two-way street in kiruv. There are those who are inspired to take on the mitzvos of the Torah, and then there are those who are inspired by the chance to bring their fellow Jews close. They get to see first-hand the changes and strides Oorah’s children make, and to take part in helping it happen.

For Moishe Susskind, a BoyZone volunteer, being part of this amazing process was a non-stop source of inspiration. A few days after camp, he recalls, “I was walking down Avenue J when I met someone I hadn’t seen in ages. He asked me where I had been this summer. I said Camp Oorah (BoyZone).”

The conversation went on, with Moishe explaining more about the camp, until the friend asked the big question: “How much kessef (money)?”

“I looked him in the eye and said, ‘No kessef.’ We Oorah staff members go out there and volunteer. We go for free. We go for the Ribono Shel Olam to be makarev His lost children. I think sometimes that we should pay Oorah for letting us have this z’chus. We’re volunteers, all out for the chesed.”

It was in that spirit that Moishe and the rest of the BoyZone counselors and campers took such pride in the white knit yarmulkas the camp gave out. In the style of the “Rebbe Nachman” yarmulkas that are inscribed with the words “Na-nach-nachma-nachman m’uman,” these say “Oo-oor-oorah m’oorah.”

“These are our badges,” Moishe says. “Just like a policeman is proud when he pulls out his badge, we’re proud to wear something that shows we’re the Oorah staff.”

His First Siyum

The minute the campers entered the dining room, they could feel the anticipation in the air. A banner sign stretched across the wall wishing Mazal Tov to the celebrants. A keyboard player stood ready to play, and the aroma of a special pepper steak dinner wafted out of the kitchen.

What was the big event? A BoyZone camper had finished the first perek of Pirkei Avos with his chavrusa.
Night Activity Director Meir Erps describes the celebration: “The boy got up and made a speech. There was singing and dancing, and Rabbi Zucker (Program Director) presented the boy with a gift. Because they made such a big event out of it, a lot of the other boys were inspired to make their own siyums, and they did.”

Open a Pinhole

Oorah campers go home with a lot more than they brought to camp. They’ve experienced Shabbos at its best, for an entire month. They’ve made warm, tight connections with mentors and friends. They’ve developed better skills in davening and learning, and they’ve lived the rhythm of real Jewish life. Then what?

That’s where Oorah’s continual mentoring and nurturing comes in. BoyZone and GirlZone counselors are in fact an army of Oorah kiruv volunteers who are deployed throughout the year to maintain close connections to their campers. They build bonds with the campers’ families as well, becoming familiar faces and trusted friends.

One BoyZone camper’s mother, however, didn’t quite understand what was happening when her son returned from camp. She kept getting phone calls from various “men” who wanted to speak to her son. While her son was being loved and cared for, she believed he was being harassed. She called Oorah to say that she did not like what was going on, and she wanted to put her son back into public school.
An Oorah volunteer patiently explained to her that the “men” who were calling were counselors from camp, and that their purpose was to be there for her son as he started yeshiva, and to act as friends and mentors for him.

The mother was touched. Amazed. All these boys were calling, not because it was their job, not because they had an ulterior motive, but just because they wanted to be there for her son. The conversation went onto other subjects, when suddenly, the mother interjected a seemingly random thought: “I think I’ll make my kitchen kosher,” she said.

“It just shows what a little warmth can accomplish,” said the Oorah volunteer. “What made her all of a sudden decide to kasher her kitchen? Just the warm feelings she had about these boys and their concern for her son. That’s all it took.”