June 13, 2010
My name is Paul Brick, and I’m a junior at SUNY Binghamton. This blog is about a huge gamble I decided to take this summer: in a couple days, I’ll be leaving for a yeshiva program in the Catskills called Ivy League Torah Study Experience. I don’t know where it is exactly, I don’t know anyone going, and I don’t know anything about the grounds. Basically, I’m spending five weeks in a place that may very well be imaginary.
A couple of my friends think this is weird, and I realize there are a lot of things that are only just now occurring to me that other people would have thought of. For example, the fact that I’m plunging alone into a totally foreign social situation just hit me. What if these yeshiva kids are lame? They could, legit, be totally lame.
But whatever. I didn’t know much about my Israel program, and that ended up fantastic. I never visited Binghamton before I came, and now I love it. It’ll work out for the best. Probably.
June 15, 2010
Okay, so officially, this place is not imaginary. But maybe it would’ve been better if it was.
I’ve only ever seen Brooklyn in movies, so when my friend drove me to the rendezvous point this morning, I tried to soak it in as much as I could. My friend laughed when I asked, “Dude, are we like, in the hood?”
And suddenly, (maybe I blinked), we’re driving around an area that might as well be B’nei Brak. I was in a sea of black hats and bushy beards. Since Israel, I haven’t felt such an overpowering Jewish presence; I didn’t know such a thing existed outside the Holy Land.
My friend drove off, leaving me with two suitcases and a bright orange pillow, standing awkwardly in front of a Chasidic yeshiva, apparently the only one around for a mile who didn’t know there was a dress code. Even with my long pants and tzizit, I felt incredibly out of place. In a panic for something familiar, I grabbed my iPod and put on some Nelly. (If you ever get the chance, watching chasids walk around while listening to “Country Grammar”-it’s a pretty funny experience.)
The first three kids that show up is a, a guy who looks just like a young Robin Williams (who seems to, unfortunately, have the sense of humor of a bundle of kindling), and a young Jew who would be totally unremarkable, were it not for his dwarf chasid companion, whose handshake felt like a child’s.
Four hours later, we’re standing in a muddy field on the campgrounds. The reason it’s four- not three- hours later, is because the van showed up an hour late, (the ride itself included three hours of chasid music that belonged in a shiva house). The reason we’re standing in a muddy field is because the van is sunk in said mud and we’ve pretty well given up on trying to push it out.
I look at my phone: no service.
Crap, what have I gotten myself into?
Now in (a surprisingly decent) bed, I blog silently. No one is socializing. Earlier on, there were a few token gestures at courtesy, but everyone remained tense. I know everyone was thinking the same thing I was: Where are the dudes I hang out with?
I’m too tired and too experienced to be pessimistic though. New things never live up to what I expect (i.e. the ants all over the bathroom). But they also always proves to be better than their first impression indicates. One of the lessons I learned from Israel is that if you don’t like something, it means you don’t know it well enough yet.
June 17, 2010
Things have definitely lightened up. We were all a bit down when we saw this run down old campground, but with the discovery of a pool table, a trip to town, and the collection of some Shabbat beer, everyone’s spirits are brighter and the tension has slowly eased.
The classes seem similar to my previous experiences with Jewish study programs. We went over some material I’ve known for years, since the old days at Schechter for elementary school. Then there’re times where I feel like I’m drowning as I realize how much information I don’t know.
It’s too early to gauge on an individual basis, (especially with how limited our free time is), but it seems like the other seven students are where I am. They all have at least a little knowledge, either from Sunday school or from their university Chabads. Everyone is really interested in learning though- I’m not the only one combing the library- and that seems encouraging. At least in this way our hearts are united.
June 19, 2010
Shabbat was good. We had a fabragen, which of course, is always a great bonding activity. The boys all shared stories at the table, and we all hung out and opened up on our cabin’s* porch afterwards. I think the awkwardness has finally gone for good.
I also felt much more relaxed tonight after our head rabbi, Rabbi Kaplan gave us a talk after dinner. He told us that other yeshiva boys will be coming soon, hard-core chabadniks, and warned us that they may try to sway us or preach to us. He stated clearly that, because we are a diverse, nondenominational group, we should not feel pressured by their attempts.
Once I realized then that our chabadniks were not trying to change me or assault my identity, I immediately breathed a mental sigh of relief. As much as I like all of our teachers and advisers, I realize that I’ve been meticulously separating the mainstream Orthodox info from the Chasidic interpretations in my mind. I suppose I was guarding myself from indoctrination, but retrospectively, the rabbis here don’t seem the type. They’re strong chasids but they accept us for who we are.
*Yeah, we pretty much live in a big cabin, three guys to a room. We’ve got spotty running water, but each room has its own bathroom and we’re getting air conditioners soon. (I’m thinking about telling these chasids about the internet, but one step at a time, right?)