Oak Park Temple
B'nai Abraham Zion

1235 N. Harlem Avenue
Oak Park, IL 60302
(708) 386-3937

Genesis at Brandeis University

Julia Taylor, August 6, 2004

Genesis at Brandeis University is a summer program for high school students integrating Jewish Studies, the Arts, Humanities, and Social Action. I attended this program from July 6-August 4, 2003.

There’s something about being put in a room full of Jewish teenagers that feels like home. Maybe it is because of the five summers I spent at Jewish summer camp, or the Jewish family traditions I grew up with, or the centuries of customs the Jewish people follow every day. But whatever it is, when I arrived at Genesis at Brandeis University, I knew that I was going to be all right.

I left home with few expectations. The glossy brochures and photo-filled website did not give many details as to what we would actually be doing at Genesis. When I left Chicago, all I knew was that I was headed off to Boston to study theatre and meet a lot of Jews.

And I did. The seventy-eight participants, nine community educators, and a dozen or so faculty members represented as broad a range of Jewish people as could be. We even had Jews from outside the US: one from Turkey, one from Costa Rica, three from Israel, and many from Canada. In my group alone, we had Aryea, our community educator, who was a modern orthodox Jew raised in Brooklyn. We had Mimi, the reform, NFTY chapter president from Arkansas; Josh, the guy from Brookline who was Jewish for the kosher Chinese food; Sara, the shomer negiah observer and skirt wearer, and Ezra, the son of an orthodox rabbi. We all had a story to tell. It was only a matter of time before we learned the words to articulate it. Mine began like this: “My name is Julia Taylor. I am a liberal reform Jew from Oak Park, Illinois, with interfaith parents, eleven years of Hebrew school education and no real knowledge of what it means to be Jewish in America today.”

We had programming time every day called Community. In this time, we discussed, debated, learned, and taught. This was our time to see the world through someone else’s eyes, to learn about other people’s experiences, and share our own. One of our first programs is the one I remember most. The community educators lead us in a discussion about truth, and personal impressions. I learned that afternoon the difference between looking and really seeing, between listening and truly hearing. This program paved the way for four more weeks of incredible experiences.
Before we could learn about ourselves, though, it was important to learn about our history, as a Jewish people. We didn’t spend hours studying Talmud, or reading from the Torah. We learned about the ancient civilizations, how they formed communities, and governed their people. With knowledge of other societies, we could begin to build our community, by our rules.

There wasn’t a set of rules waiting for us at Genesis. There wasn’t a curfew, a hierarchy, or any real structure to the program. It was up to us, as a community to decide. When we asked what we were going to be doing at Genesis, we were given few responses. It was up to us, they would say. But they told us we would form a community. So we pulled out a dictionary, learned Webster’s version of the word, and still felt lost. How are these 78 strangers going to form a community?

And so the planning began. We organized a set of rules, and prepared discussion groups on issues relevant to us. Most importantly, though, we planned Shabbat. Because Genesis was a pluralistic community, it didn’t seem possible to have one Shabbat service that would satisfy everyone’s needs. The “community” would have to be split apart. So the first week we settled on having Reform, Conservative Egalitarian, Orthodox, and secular services. Most people at Genesis could fit into one of those categories. But we were encouraged to shop around, experience other traditions. I was on the planning committee for the Reform service, though, and so stuck to what I know for week one.

By the time Friday rolled around, we had planned Shabbat, planned Shabbat, and planned some more Shabbat. We thought we had everything figured out. We dressed up, took pictures with our newly acquainted friends, and headed off to services.

Services for me were a welcoming relief to an overwhelming week. Six days of new ideas, new friendships, and new customs were gratefully traded in for the familiar tunes played on guitar and prayer experience I enjoyed.
This Shabbat was a time for celebration. We had accomplished a lot in one week. From trying to figure out the living habits of my Israeli roommate, to experiencing numerous other cultures all labeled Jewish, to planning a set of services and activities for four denominations of people, we were ready to relax. But somehow on this Shabbat I felt lost. The services went beautifully, but as soon as we gathered back together as a community, my safe little reform bubble melted away. At dinner I felt as if I’d traveled to the opposite side of the world. People were singing songs I didn’t know, saying blessings for things I didn’t know needed blessings, and kept silent from the moment they washed their hands until the motzi was sung. I was beginning to realize that I was a minority. I wanted to be part of their celebration, but there seemed to be no one to translate for me.

The next morning I attended Shabbat services. Back in the comfort of the reform service, our Reform Rabbi and Genesis program director, Bradley, led us in prayer. Instead of simply reading from the Torah, he had us form a circle and we studied the parsha. We found contextual clues that led us to other parts of the reading, learned meaning for rituals, and grew together as a little reform community. I finally felt that I was beginning to understand this idea of a community.

Throughout the next week, my theatre class intensified in work and discussion. The instructors combined modern theatre and the Jewish self to provide us with an introspective look at ourselves as actors and as Jews. We debated the meaning of art in the world and its necessity in everyday life. As opposed to many of the previous community discussions, I was confident in my speech in the theatre discussions. These classes gave me the strength to go back to the community and stand up for my beliefs, which were strongly questioned in the second week.

A participant-led discussion on intermarriage forced me to question the choice my parents made but then to finally assert my position that I agree with what they decided. Hard debates on raising a Jewish family in a mixed home drove me to believe that my mixed home only strengthened my Judaism. If these beliefs had been forced down my throat since birth, I probably would have pulled out my teenage rebellion act and denounced a belief in God. But because an integrated culture was present in my home, I had to figure it out for myself. And I did, and Genesis showed me how. By the end of the second week, I was beginning to shape out the rest of my story as a Jew.

I was learning so much so fast. The Jewish community was starting to thrive and I was becoming more religious by the day. At one point I even pondered the idea of going to a Jewish high school for my senior year, following halacha, and becoming shomer negiah. That’s one of the words I learned: shomer negiah, to not have any physical contact with a person of the opposite sex outside ones family until marriage. I was becoming a zealot, and it wasn’t only Judaism. I began to love learning. I took every opportunity to learn more about anything and everything that I could get my hands on. I was seeing and I was hearing, as wide as my heart would go. I went to discussions on Kaballah, on modern orthodoxy, and on sexual orientation. I critically discussed a production my theatre class went to see, with a new eye for theatre that emerged out of nowhere. I participated in community service projects with a drive to reach out. I had more fun with these people than I could ever put into words. I laughed. I cried. And I learned to speak from my heart.
By the third week, we had all become so close that we were tired of having Shabbat separately. A committee was formed to try to organize an all-inclusive Shabbat service. The committee met with members of each sect and explored different options of songs and structure. When Friday evening came, we were all nervous with anticipation of how this service would play out. Because the service was meant to please everyone, the seating was arranged with a mixed-gender section in the middle and machitzah on either side with men on one side and women on the other.

The service opened with the song Henei Ma’Tov, which translates to “behold how good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.” We were finally together, as one entire community. Though we only went through opening songs and psalms together, and though most people were at least slightly uncomfortable, it was quite an accomplishment. No other Genesis community has even attempted to have an all-inclusive Shabbat service, and we managed to pull it off.

As the fourth Shabbat neared, we finally understood what it meant to be a community. It was not until it was time to go that we realized what we had created. We were 90+ people from all over the world who came together to form one unified community. The stronger we became as a community, the stronger we became as individuals as well. My strength came from what I knew best—the Reform service. While I was being bombarded with new ideas and theories for four weeks, the only thing to really remain constant in my life were those eight services. I ended up appreciating that time more than almost any at Genesis. By the last Shabbat, the Friday night attendance at the reform service was very small: we didn’t even make a minyon. But I cherished those times that I could learn about my people’s history and pray in a comfortable setting, following the values I keep.

I came away from Genesis with a new outlook. I didn’t really want to see my friends when I got home because I felt that their life was too material. I felt that they couldn’t possibly understand what I had been through and everything they talked about was trivial. As alien as I had felt at the beginning of Genesis, I now that felt at home. Few of my close friends are Jewish, and for most of the ones who are, it doesn’t mean anything. I found solace in school. I started my senior year eager to learn. I was excited to attend my classes every day because they gave meaning to my life. My first semester in school was the most challenging I’ve ever had—not only academically, but I was juggling college applications, directing a play, running a company, and trying to have a social life at the same time. But that semester I got straight As for the first time in high school. I didn’t just listen in class, I heard. I didn’t just read my books, I absorbed them.

So where does that leave me now? My story started out like this: “My name is Julia Taylor. At home, I’m the Jewish one. But I don’t know what it means to be Jewish.” Now, a year later, I’m so grateful that Genesis has given me the opportunity to continue my story. “My name is Julia Taylor. I still couldn’t tell you what I exactly did at Genesis. But I know what I took away with me. I took away a sense of Judaism and myself. I learned that I don’t have to be an orthodox Jew to be Jewish. I learned that I don’t even have to light the candles every week for Shabbat to have significance in my life. I learned that it’s ok for me to not understand my religion. I’m eighteen years old and I have a lifetime of learning ahead of me, and I can’t wait to open the next book.