We arrived at the Lauder Javne Iskola, and we were greeted warmly. The night before we met our school counterparts over dinner. Today they welcomed us onto their home campus. My counterpart is Andras Zima, an ethnographer and cultural anthropologist trained at the Jewish Theological Seminary/University of Jewish Studies, the counterpart to the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City, where I was ordained as rabbi. Andras’ interest is Central European Jewry, particularly Hungarian Jewry, in the twentieth century, doing media discourse analysis and an examination of Zionist strategies up until WWII. He is currently focusing on the post-WWII period in his research. In any event, he gave us a brilliant overview of the entire scope of Hungarian Jewish history, demography, and culture within the broader contours of Europe. Many of us were intrigued by his sense that WWI changed everything for Europe, shifting identity from language-based to territory-based. As new countries were created in the wake of WWI, many started to see themselves as citizens of those new countries. But where did this leave a Jewish Europe that did not have a country. This itself may well have shifted the debate within Judaism from creating a national territory within Europe to looking for one elsewhere. Zionism suddenly became much more of a practicable option.
Andras clarified my teaching schedule for me. This was most welcome–as the schedule posted was one I had not seen before. My previous understanding was that I would be teaching a number of classes once. But now it was clear that I would have some groups for the entire week (3-4 sessions), others I would teach twice, and some I would see only once. This of course lit a light bulb to rethink my options to maximalize my effectiveness with the students.
Two delightful students, Adam and Hannah, led my colleague Diane Feldman (a Theater Education master teacher) and myself throughout the school and into the playground (where we had a chance to play for a few minutes in the first great weather we had!). Adam is actually from Vancouver (his mother is from Budapest), and he goes home in the summer to visit. I am impressed with his family’s commitment to his attendance at this school. Both Adam and Hannah are in the middle school and speak fluent English. They are delightful young people with terrific humor and open hearts. We are uplifted.
I taught my first two classes later in the morning to ninth graders. I am presenting the varieties of approaches to Judaism and Jewish life in the United States. My goal, however, is not merely to shed light on the differences and similarities among the various movements–ultra-Orthodox, centrist Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform, Renewal, and Humanistic Judaisms. Rather, I am hoping that these students will see that they can control their own Jewish destiny, that they will take charge of the refashioning of Hungarian Jewish life, without any preconceived notion of what that means or looks like.
Both of my classes were ninth grade classes. My plan in the first place is to try to learn something about these teenagers: who are they? I ask them to introduce themselves by using the letters LJI (the acronym for Lauder Javne Iskola) as the first letters of words that describe themselves. Some tell me that they are “lazy” or “love sports” or “tell jokes” or are “interested in art”.
I then proceeded to ask about hiking–and what does hiking mean? How do we prepare for hiking? Where do we hike–the mountains, a forest, the beach? Do we take always go to the same spot? Do we hike for exercise, to chat with friends or to clear our heads or some other reason? Do we hike alone, in small groups of two or three–or do we have a hiking group of 10 or more? Do we stay on the trail or get off of it to explore? Do we stop and lie down by a lake or in some place to read (or eat)–or not? What do we wear to hike–informal jeans and T-shirt or something that more represents the art or sport of hiking? What kind of equipment to we use–hiking poles or a stick; camelbak or bottled water; etc.? Do we bring food or drink–or get it on the way? Is a hike thirty minutes long or an hour–or longer? Do we tend to hike the same way pretty much each time–or do we try to mix it up (using all the variables hinted at above) a lot?
The prism of thinking about all the variables and possibilities of hiking is also a prism through which students can think about Judaism and Jewish life. I want these students to realize that the possibilities are manifold–and the joy of hiking Jewishly is in their hands to make it the experience they want or need. They just need to see a value in hiking–and then of course to take a hike!
My first group of students asked me many questions–they were very talkative. They actually seemed quite attentive. It was fantastic. The second group of students asked me fewer questions and seemed less attentive. My counterpart Andras told me afterward that he felt the same thing, but attributed it to this latter group’s being less confident with their English. Perhaps.
But I do notice that in that class what started as interactive ending up becoming my talking a lot–not lecturing, but talking. I was glad that I kept it informal, but I hope that I can find a way to get them to open up more the next, so that they can get more out of our time together.
