Excerpt from 1A7B Autobiography – My Perspective

on Bnei Akiva
Before we take leave of Rainbow Beach once and for all, I must dwell a bit on one more
subject that, heretofore, I have only mentioned in passing – Bnei Akiva.
It is probably obvious from what I have written thus far, as well as the fact that I am
writing such a charged book, that I am a religious idealist. This is an inborn trait that I am
stuck with. This means that I always take my “isms” very seriously. To Orthodox Jews, the
ism of note is Judaism. The Judaism of my youth was laced with Zionism. To the Religious
Zionists, these two isms are complementary. This means that they can co-exist. To the
chareidi, they are “diametrically opposed.” This means that they cannot co-exist. As a kid
who is indoctrinated as a Religious Zionist, our initial credo is that these two isms are
indivisible. But as I grew up, I somehow noticed that these two isms were not leading to the
same destination. As I couldn’t travel down two roads my conclusion was that they cannot co-
exist. I opted for what I considered to be the ideal of Judaism. The main body of this book
explains how I see it this way. Thus, I became a chareidi.
Of course, this did not transpire overnight and I don’t want to get ahead of my story. In
Rainbow Beach, I was a full-fledged (mass1 paying) member of Bnei Akiva.
The Shabbat youth groups were innocent enough. In fact, the attendees were actually
from the most observant families in the community as irreligious kids did not go to Shabbat
groups. Both boys and girls attended the groups simultaneously though all the kids were
placed in boy or girl sub-groups. The groups opened with singing the Bnei Akiva march
followed by Boaz’s greeting – “G-d be with you!” “May you be blessed by G-d!” 2. We would
then count the attendees using the Jewish system.3 The branch head would then announce,
“B’Ezrat Hashem we have here today 26 soldiers...” There was usually some game and a
snack whereupon the branch head would lead us in the Al HaMichya prayer. For the count,
game, and snack, all the sub-groups (boy and girl) joined together. Aside from that, there were
sichot, a talk or a story, told by the leaders of each sub-group. Sometimes they had a religious
theme such as a Jewish Press type story of Rabbi Akiva or Maimonides or even a story of the
Chafetz Chaim or Baal Shem Tov or Rabbi Yisroel Salanter. I learned about the Golem of
Prague in those groups. Yet, just as often, if not more often, the sicha would concern one of
the Israeli wars and the associated heroics or the Irgun or such. The boy groups also studied a
bit of Mishna, and, if there were enough people, they conducted Shabbat Mincha services. In
all, the religious atmosphere was very highly charged and both my religious and Zionistic
idealism flourished.
Then came the summer camps. This was different. It was here that the cracks in the
foundation started to emerge. One reason for this was because, unlike our Shabbat youth
groups that only attracted religious Shomer Shabbat kids, the camp was open to all and a
substantial proportion of the kids were not from true Shomer Shabbat families. Add to this
that it is one thing for groups of boys and girls to share a campus for 1½ hours on Shabbat. It
is quite another to do so for three uninterrupted weeks. There are issues that would be
inconceivable in chareidi circles that could be conceived in such an environment.
I attended twice – once following fourth grade and once following sixth grade (precisely
when we moved from East to West Natwich). The first summer, when I was nine years old,
was rather enjoyable. From my nine year old perception, this was a six week 24/7

1
Hebrew for “tax.” This refers to the yearly membership fee, which at that time, was five dollars.

2
Ruth 2:4

3
Instead of using numbers, we recite a verse of ten words, each word represents the corresponding integer. Hence,
each completed verse indicates ten people and the remainder is determined by which word of the verse was last
recited.
manifestation of our hour-and-a-half Shabbat groups. I was together with other nine year olds,
I was there to have fun, my ideals were being nourished, and so it was.
The second summer, two years later, was much different. I was not nine but eleven (and a
half). The boys I was with were likewise between eleven and twelve. Eleven to twelve year
old boys are much different than nine year olds. Trust me. They knew everything that I had
learned in sixth grade and then some. And they were not all religious (not that that really
made all the difference). Like most camps it was lights out at nine and the counselors, after
seeing to it that we were snugly tucked in, ran off to do who knows what. Meanwhile, back at
the bunk, the chit chat got a bit (off-) colorful. My education broadened but, suddenly, my
spiritual ideals were not being nourished.
Being two years older and wiser, my religious perceptions were a lot keener. To this point,
my spiritual horizons had been broadening; but not this summer. One ramification of this was
that I was a bit different than most of the guys in that bunk. Kind of a stick in the mud. I
became the goat of the group and, all too often, I was reduced to tears. I had a miserable time.
A second ramification was that I could sense that something was not up to par. It is
possible that due to the presence of the non-religious element (clearly a minority but not an
insignificant one), the religious fervor had to be held down a notch. Only, a token half hour
period each morning was designated for Torah study and the level of study in the groups was
substandard even for Maccabee Hebrew Day School. Aside from that brief session and the
mandatory prayers and Grace-after-meals, there was no infusion of Jewish values. Also, it
seemed, at least in retrospect, that the barriers between the boys’ groups and the girls’ groups
were much too porous. The night activity was held jointly for the entire camp, and don’t
forget that it was held at night. Shabbat afternoons were punctuated by campers taking strolls
in pairs (this was broad daylight) – not matching pairs. I knew that something was wrong with
this, but I was still a young idealistic Bnei Akiva-nik and my Religious Zionist upbringing did
not, as of then, give me the tools to be able to determine exactly what it is. It would be
another year until I would start to understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note - Here I am skipping about 3 pages from the original narrative. In the interim, I discuss 2 major
events that influenced my haskafic development. The first is recorded in One Above and Seven Below.
To follow is the second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continued…

The second influence was much weightier. My father had indeed noticed that my camp
experience of the previous summer was not a cheerful one. I think that, on his own, he
likewise sensed some deficiencies in the spiritual atmosphere of the Bnei Akiva camp.
Furthermore, he was fully aware of my congenital religious zeal. And, as every parent does in
regard to his kids, he was always comparing notes with his peers. These peers included
numerous chareidi businessmen from the diamond district in New York. From his business
chat sessions all through the school year he was hearing glowing reports about the chareidi
yeshiva-oriented Catskill Mountain summer camps. He asked me if I wanted to go out East
for the summer and I said, “Yes.” So, he signed me up.
That was it.
I never had a more meaningful summer. I felt that I was entering a whole different world,
but a world that made my Jewishness make sense. At the Bnei Akiva camp, my level of
religiosity was pretty much at the max level. Everything that was offered there was from that
level on down. There was nowhere to climb. Now, I had just stepped into the East Coast
yeshiva environment and, though I may have been close to the bottom, I was looking upward.
It feels better to look up.
 Here, just about everybody was Orthodox and most, though not all, were chareidi. There
were boys with prominent last names from the families of Torah leaders, educators, and
askanim (influence peddlers). Many of these boys, whether or not they were initially blessed
with any of these prominent family names, have themselves grown to become Torah leaders,
educators, and askanim. The entire atmosphere was charged with a feeling that Torah
observance dominates the agenda; from the type of music that was constantly piped through
the public address system (except for the three weeks of mourning), to the themes of the plays
and skits and color wars. At color war, we amassed points for memorizing Mishna, Kriyat
Shema, Grace after Meals and Al Hamichya and the nineteen blessings of the Amidah. This is
where I learned all these blessings and prayers by heart. Every boy was all but required to
memorize at least one chapter of Mishna. Obviously, there was a drive to make each boy
come away from the camp a more polished Jew than how he came in. None of this was
promoted at the Bnei Akiva camp in my era. Here, Halachic issues of summer fun were
openly confronted with no thought of compromising the Halachic standards. In Bnei Akiva,
many of these issues were “overlooked.”
There were Torah learning groups twice daily at a much more advanced level. These
sessions were such an integral part of the camp schedule that the camp employed a prominent
yeshiva rebbe as a learning director. Of course, this is standard for the East Coast yeshiva
camps, but for me, hailing from the Bnei Akiva camp, it was a novelty. Any alumnus of any
of these camps readily mimics the trite announcement, “Time for learning never ends, but
learning groups are now over.” I never heard that at Bnei Akiva. The Bnei Akiva camp has a
high school age division called Machaneh HaChalutz (Pioneer’s Camp), Mach-Hal for short.
At this level, the religious vs. irreligious ratio may have been a bit stronger and there is a bit
heavier regimen of shiurim (study sessions) and sichot, but the main emphasis is on military
style physical enhancement. Conversely, the Catskill camp had a high school age division
called Masmidim (Persistent Scholars). What I knew about them is that they were expected to
study at least six hours a day. There was a Chassidic Rebbe who came every Shabbat and
conducted a Friday night tish4; another phenomenon that one doesn’t find too often at Bnei
Akiva.
All this I found fascinating enough, but what fascinated me the most is that amidst all this
focus on Torah study and religious ideals, I saw a tremendous amount of talent and creativity.
Being chareidi yeshiva boys did not stop these guys from being musicians and songwriters,
playwrights, actors and comics, artists and athletes. Some of these fellows shone in their
brilliance, and this, without any girls to impress.
Did I, until just now, neglect to mention no girls? Silly me, how can I overlook such a
basic discrepancy? I must have been having such a good time that it simply slipped my mind
that there were no girls there (out of sight, out of mind!). In truth, it is not really an accident
that I, heretofore, did not bring up this point. I want to avoid the impression that this issue
makes all the difference between the two camps. I wanted to first point out that these two
camps do not share the same set of goals. The question becomes: can’t one play the game
both ways and take on the ideals of both camps? After all, as different as these two camps are,
they still pledge allegiance to the same Torah, is there no room to say that at some point their
ideals can converge?
If not for this matter of a mixed gender environment, I could have thought that such a
convergence may be possible. But the transition of that summer (coupled with the onset of
adolescence) convinced me that such cannot be the case.
In hindsight, I understand that there is a school of thought that one can observe all the
commandments except the one that says, “You shall be holy.”5 Rashi (ad loc.) explains that
this means that we must prevent intermingling of the sexes. Nachmanides (ad loc.) explains
that this means we should abstain from permissible things that do nothing but enhance our

4
Literally: table. This is a common Chassidic ritual wherein the Rebbe conducts his Shabbat meal as an open-to-
the-public event. The Rebbe shares his meal, his songs, and his words of Torah with all those who participate.

5
Leviticus 19:2
earthiness. The focus of the East Coast camp was to help us take on the mantle of being a
holy nation and to thrive in it and to enjoy it. This cannot occur in a coed setting.
My feeling was that, at that time, Religious Zionism may have been well served by Bnei
Akiva but Orthodox Judaism was not. If Bnei Akiva had any mission it was to make us into
better Zionists without abandoning our religiousness. The Agudath Israel camps were focused
on making us into better Jews. The chareidi world covets the teachings of Mesilat Yesharim
and Chovot HaLevavot because these works are intended to help us understand what is our
purpose in this world and how our commitment to Torah study and to the commandments
helps us to achieve it. The Bnei Akiva approach to the commandments is that we must
obediently do our duty. It’s not as if the commandments are meant to shape our lives and to
lead us to a specific lofty goal. Once the obligations are fulfilled, we are free to pursue other
(secular) interests. After the obligatory head covering and tzitzit (and for the women-folk,
nothing was truly obligatory), the balance of one’s attire need not be distinct from the non-
Jew. I recall that, for one arts and crafts session at the Bnei Akiva camp, we brought in t-
shirts and tie-dyed them. It was a big fad then albeit not a Jewish fad. Nobody at that camp
questioned if Orthodox Jews ought to be wearing tie-dyed t-shirts. Why should they question
it – like, hey, is there any real prohibition? Perhaps not. But does it convey the message “You
shall be holy, for I am holy”? I don’t think so. This environment did not seem to have a
receptacle for the ideas of Mesilat Yesharim or Chovot HaLevavot. Indeed, I feel that that
would have been an anathema to them.