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This article was
written by Camp Koby Summer in Israel participant Simone
Vais. It appeared in the "Fresh Ink" section
of the Jewish Press newspaper.
I'm so
excited to speak to her. Months have passed since those
incredible ten days,
and we have so much to catch up on. I update her
on my life – I tell her about school, finals, my
friends – just about everything that’s on my mind.
And then, when I’m done, I ask her about what’s
going on in her life. She takes her time answering, as
if she’s hesitating whether or not to say what she’s
thinking. Then a new IM pops up. “A war” she
responds.
How
could I be so insensitive? I knew about the war raging
on in Gaza, about the rockets bombarding southern
Israel. I diligently checked the news for updates on the
situation. Yet I had completely overlooked the personal
side of the war. My campers- all of whom had lost family
to terror attacks –
how did this affect them? Their brothers had
surely been deployed into Gaza, it was their homes that
stood within the range of the missiles. This war was no
news story, it was their reality. And I now realized
that I could never truly understand my campers, for at
home I felt secure - a luxury they may never obtain.
This
summer, I had the privilege of being a counselor at Camp
Koby, a camp founded by Rabbi Seth and Sherri Mandell
after their son, Koby, was brutally murdered
by Palestinian terrorists. It is a camp for
children who have lost immediate family members to
terror attacks. I
walked into camp awaiting 10 days of tears, of loss, and
of sorrow. I thought I’d be there to help the
children, to comfort them through their mourning. I
realized, however, that I was the one with so much to
learn, and I was soon taught some of life’s most
profound lessons by a group of 7 years old girls.
I
learned of what Sherri Mandell calls "the blessing
of a broken heart” - that a heart, devastated by loss,
can be reborn through the support of those who have
experienced what it now suffers from. It can emerge
anew, more compassionate and open, able to touch others,
a heart that seeks God. I learned this not only through
the incredible work of the Mandell's, but even more
remarkably, by 2 of my campers, in a most unforeseen
setting.
A
concert was being held one night in camp, and everyone
was having a great time, losing themselves in the
moment, forgetting all that had happened, and for a few
minutes- just letting go.
Then a
song, written in memory of a young boy who had been
murdered by terrorists, came on. That boy had two
sisters in camp. When that song came on, one might
expect the mood to change. Perhaps the memory of their
brother would be too hard to cope with; maybe the girls
would need to sit this song out. That was not at all the
case. The two sisters frantically searched for each
other, and when they made eye contact, they ran to meet
in the middle of the dance floor. The floor cleared out
and everyone made space for them, as the two sisters
began to dance and sing with all their hearts. When the
song ended, the sisters embraced, and the concert went
on as before. It was truly an incredible sight. Two
sisters remembering their brother in the most positive
way, elevating his neshama through their heartfelt
praise of god, allowing his legacy to live on through
their own growth and joy. Perhaps the most moving part,
however, was how everyone else just understood. Everyone
allowed them to have their moment; they stepped back and
recognized that this is what the two girls needed, and
they gave them the spotlight.
Another
experience that I will never forget – one that defines
Camp Koby for me, also occurred in a most unexpected
setting- a petting zoo that had been brought to camp. As
my ten year old campers played with the animals, the
owner of the zoo began to teach my bunk about the
structures of the animals’ families. One particular
species of snake, he said, only had a mother; its father
abandoned the family after the children were born. “I
only have a dad too” whispered one of the girls. My co
– counselors and I froze. What were we going to say?
“Really? Me too!” said another little girl. “I
have a dad, but not a mom” yelled a third camper. The
conversation evolved from there, each girl sharing who
they had lost in the most casual atmosphere – each one
accepting their reality and feeling comfortable enough
to share it with the friends who made them feel at home.
We just stood back in shock. It was at this moment that
I realized that Koby’s parents had achieved their
goal, that Camp Koby had become an indispensable
resource for these children, a true oasis.
In our
final week in Israel, we visited a memorial for all
those who have perished in terrorist attacks. This was
the culmination of our summer –tying together
everything we had experienced. As we approached the
wall, we realized that we were now able to identify
nearly all the names we saw, that right here lied the
reason Camp Koby existed.
This was no longer a wall of names - it was a
wall of mothers and fathers, of younger brothers and
older sisters, of heroes, and of role models.
We never anticipated the immense joy that would encompass our days at
camp. But Sherri Mandell once taught us that only those
who had endured great suffering could experience the
highest level of joy. Camp Koby embodied this lesson.
Yet the message of Camp was not only one of joy and laughter. It brought
us closer to the land of Israel, and to the people of
Israel. Although I won't have the opportunity to return
to Camp Koby this summer, I will take it's lessons with
me wherever I go. It has shown me the deepest
sufferings, and the greatest triumphs, of man.
I have seen what it means to rise from the ashes,
to be reborn after loss, and to create something
beautiful. I have learned the incredible potential of
one human being, but more importantly, I have begun to
understand what it truly means to be a part of Klal
Yisrael, and to stand by your brother in his time of
need.
As rockets continued to bombard southern Israel
this winter, despite the Israeli offensive in Gaza, Camp
Koby encompassed my thoughts. How many lives were being
changed forever, pierced by the trauma of loss.
How many new campers would there be at Camp Koby
this summer? How many new stories would be told? But
most importantly, how many people would, like Rabbi Seth
and Sherri Mandell, take their story and allow it to
inspire us all.
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