THREE TIMES DAILY

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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.

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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.”