“Shabbat Shalom to Julia! . . . . Shabbat Shalom to Zita! . . . . Shabbat Shalom to Abel! . . . . Sha Sha Shabbat Shalom!”
The Shabbat song, incorporating the names of Scheibor Sandor and Beth Tfiloh students rang out in the dining room of the Leaanyfalu Camp, where the group ushered in Shabbat at what, for many of the SSG students, was their first Shabbaton and, for some, their first Shabbat observance. And while Beth Tfiloh hosts four Shabbatonim for our students each school year, the one in Budapest was my first as well, so I had not formed expectations for this culminating experience of our trip, other than the hope that the students would find friendship and meaning in their shared experience.
The SSG and BT students converged on the campsite Friday afternoon having already selected their cabin mates for the weekend, and their growing comfort level with one another showed as they swam, played ball and explored the grounds together. Later, in Shul, dressed in wide array of Shabbat finery, some of them became leaders in the service and all participated with a quiet dignity, respecting the peacefulness and beauty of Shabbat.
While I was a novice to the Shabbaton, I am no stranger to the meaning and importance of prayer in a Jewish Day School, and am, in fact, an alternative davening (prayer) leader for a group of 11th grade girls at BT, one of whom was present on our trip. So when Rabbi Soskil announced during Shabbat services on Saturday morning that those who would like to move to an alternative davening group on the front patio, I was ready to receive them. Here I saw a microcosm of what I had observed thus far on the trip: students, little by little, widening their comfort zone, shedding the protective cloak of silence, and opening up to the group about this religious/cultural/social/academic experience. One of our Budapest students summed up what others may have been feeling when she tearfully and poignantly revealed that sharing feelings did not come as easily to some of the Hungarians as it seemed to do for the Americans, and I was so proud of this otherwise quiet, somewhat reticent, young woman for giving words to what others, too, may have felt.
Later, after an evening service that included inspiring personal stories from Rabbi Soskil and David Green, energy-infused songs, and a moonlit outdoor Havdalah service, our now fully bonded teenagers rotated through activities included cooking Palacsinta (Hungarian crepes) filled with creamy sweet cheese, jelly or Nutella, making S’mores in front of an open fire pit, or – my personal favorite – cutting loose at a rollicking dance party. As one big cohesive group, they laughed, danced, ate, and exchanged inside jokes and funny stories.
Because we planned to roll out of Leaanyfalu by 8:30 a.m. Sunday for the Americans to go to the airport and the Hungarians to go home, we told the students that everyone had to be in bed by midnight. But whether in Budapest or Baltimore, teenagers carry with them some universal truths, one being that midnight is more likely a start time than an end. And so, they told us, in the spirit of standing up for their rights and taking action for justice – the lesson of my Seminar class — they respectfully requested to stay up with one another on the condition that they would be awake and ready to leave at the designated time.
The next morning, as they exchanged tearful, heartfelt, and –yes – on time goodbyes, I knew that they had learned from us lessons not only about activism and agency, language and literacy, spirituality and Judaism, but also about maturity and responsibility, friendship and honesty, and laughter and love. And we had learned from them that we could have an impact on all students by showing them what they can do and who they can become, by inviting them to find the words and perform the actions to write their own story and create their own future.
