By Navarre Moore, Special to JTNews
Between the 3rd and 7th grades, my life consisted of watching TV, playing sports, and waking up on Sunday mornings to head to my synagogue to prepare myself for my upcoming Bar Mitzvah.
But after May 7, 2005, I felt I had no more to learn. What was a regular part of my life had suddenly become insignificant.
At my synagogue, Temple Beth Am in Seattle, after you become a Bar Mitzvah, you only come to Hebrew school on Tuesday nights. I was presented with the option of whether or not to go — I chose to continue because of the lone fact that it was mandatory in order to be a madrich for younger Sunday school classes.
Much like the rest of us, I needed the money. My whole Jewish 8th grade year was fueled by social needs and requirements for work. Then, early in the fall of my freshman year, my friends Dylan and Aaron convinced me to attend this thing called NFTY.
I had no idea what to expect. All I had heard was that it was really fun. When Fall Kallah rolled around, I greeted the kids in my Hebrew class at Camp Burton, confused about what lay ahead. I headed into the dining hall and sat with my clump of friends and turned around to listen to a group of individuals, the regional board of the National Federation of Temple Youth, addressing everyone.
I knew no one in my cabin, but they included me like I had been coming for years. I had so much fun at this event I decided to come back for the next two Kallot.
Fast forward to my junior year in high school. I’m still living in Kent (where it seems to be Jew-less). I’m still a Jew. I’m still going to NFTY events. In the spring of my freshman year, I had picked up a liking for theater and decided to continue on with it the next year. The consequences? I had to miss NFTY Fall Kallah due to two performances falling on the same weekend.
I was crushed, though I got over it quickly because our performance went swimmingly. With no performances in sight, I was able to sign up for the winter event, which was held at Temple De Hirsch Sinai in Seattle. We attended an amazing new experience for me: Friday night Rock Shabbat services. I loved it.
Other than that lovely Shabbat, this event was different. During Saturday afternoon, we were encouraged to sit down with the regional board and listen to them talk about their positions, in case we wanted to run for board next year. Through the whole event, my friend Kyleigh kept telling me: “You should run! You should run!”
Though I was skeptical, because I had never even been on my temple youth group’s board, I sat down with the membership vice president to learn more about the position. Near the end of lunch, Jonathan, a friend from my synagogue, walked up behind us. He was on the regional board as well, in a position called communications vice president.
Since no one went to his table at lunch (everyone knew this position wrote down meeting minutes), I thought I would listen to him as he told me about his position. Instantly, I was hooked. It possessed the same friendliness of the membership position, but with bigger technological differences. Advertising? I’d love to. Minutes? I don’t mind. Helping to lead a region of Reform Jews as they explore their religion, much like those individuals I had so admired as a freshman? Couldn’t ask for anything better.
After much badgering by Kyleigh to get me to run (she was a junior on regional board, and I knew she was going to run again), I finally decided to go for it. Once I had typed my letter of intent, and it was posted on the region’s Web site, all my fears of not being elected washed away — I was running unopposed!
I was elected onto the regional board, along with six other friends, one of whom was Kyleigh. Although this was a high point in my life as both a leader and a Jew, it was minuscule compared to what was about to happen.
Two months later, my board flew to the Union for Reform Judaism’s Kutz Camp, in Warwick, N.Y., for an event called Mechina, essentially a regional board training retreat. I met all sorts of people from around the U.S. that shared the same passion for NFTY I did.
Toward the end of the four-day event, I started to feel a connection to the camp. I had had such an amazing time at Mechina that I wanted to stay for the 3-1/2 week summer session. But the deadline had passed, and I already had my flight home. There was nothing I could do.
On the morning of our departure, NFTY’s programming vice president approached me and simply asked, “Did you have a good time?”
I immediately responded with a yes.
“I really want to stay, too,” I told him.
He invited me to stay, and I was on my way to the airport when word came through: I would be able to get a full scholarship for the summer. I just about lost control from happiness. I changed my flight and headed back to Kutz Camp.
When I arrived at services, the looks on my friends’ faces were priceless. They instantly mobbed me with hugs. I knew I had come back for a reason: This place was special. Over the next several weeks, I learned how to be a better leader, things about Israel I’d never known, the differences and similarities between Judaism and Islam, and, interestingly some very dark aspects of Judaism that I will remember forever.
I saw Josh Nelson and Dan Nichols live in concert — I actually played basketball with Dan Nichols, which I’ll never forget. I prayed how I wanted to pray, without being judged about how I do it. I loved the holiness that swept through the camp when Shabbat rolled around. I played softball games on Shabbat that made even mud memorable. But of all these fabulous things at camp, what sticks with me the most is the people — the campers, the avodah, everyone.
They were so willing to open themselves up and share from their hearts with people they had known for but a week or so. I loved the ruach, the spirit that rushed into someone’s body when a guitar was strummed, and the care and the kindness people would show while visiting kids quarantined by swine flu, strep throat, and lice, respectively.
My favorite Dan Nichols song is two words. Two words that describe this camp. Two words that describe NFTY: Kehilah kedosha, holy community. NFTY has shaped me into the proud Jew I am today. NFTY is my life. Gonna live and die N-F-T-Y.
Navarre Moore is communications vice president for the Pacific Northwest Region of the National Federation of Temple Youth and a senior at Kentwood Senior High in Covington.