Shabbat Shalom

I take a moment to catch my breath, overlooking the camp where forest and mountains stretch on for miles in the clear afternoon skies. In the background the song leaders begin to play. Traditional Hebrew song spills out of guitars and into the chapel, words mouthed as fluent as they would be in Israel, drum beats echo through the trees so all know it is time.

Slowly they begin to appear. White chains linked by hand. Winding their way through the fields together in song. They pass the chadar ochel and catch wafts of chicken and fresh baked challah escaping into the air. Their voices grow louder as they climb the hill. The excitement is brewing.

The sun catches them and I shield my eyes. The sea of white shines as they flood into the chapel on the hill. One by one they enter and sit, gravel crunching under their feet and bright greetings of Shabbat can be heard all around. The volume increases with each new hymn, more voices join in until the camp is singing in unison.

When the song ends everything falls still. Heads bowed in reflection. Hot summer sun beating down on our backs. Eternal light glowing overhead. The camp director takes to the stage in his crisp white shirt. And my first Shabbat service begins.

“Shabbat shalom Camp Harlam.”