This Shabbat is a very special one for my family. Twenty years ago, on Parashat Beshalach, my husband and I launched a lay-led congregation in Boston called the Washington Square Minyan. We planned with a small cohort for months leading up to the first Shabbat, ensured we had a confirmed minyan, and hoped people would come. We woke up Shabbat morning to a massive snowstorm but still wound up welcoming 65 people to services on that first Shabbat. We moved to New York five years later and left our beloved community in the hands of other fantastic stewards. This past Shabbat, we returned to Brookline, Massachusetts, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Washington Square Minyan with magnificent tefillot and festivities. I discovered all sorts of new initiatives, like a Shabbat morning program where older children learn in chevrutah with younger children. I felt so proud to be connected to the seed that planted this beautiful garden.
One of the speakers over Shabbat spoke about the founding of the community twenty years earlier that had become a home to some families who were children when it was founded. They referred to the famous Talmudic story of Choni:
“R’Yochanan said: This righteous man [Choni] was throughout his whole life troubled about the meaning of the verse (Psalms 126), A Song of Ascents, 'When Hashem will return the captivity of Zion, we will be like dreamers.’ Is it possible for a man to dream continuously for seventy years? One day, he was journeying on the road, and he saw a man planting a carob tree; he asked him, 'How long does it take [for this tree] to bear fruit?' The man replied, 'Seventy years'. He then further asked him, 'Are you certain that you will live another seventy years?' The man replied, 'I found [already grown] carob trees in the world; as my forefathers planted these for me, so I too plant these for my children.'
Choni sat down to have a meal, and sleep overcame him. As he slept, a rocky formation enclosed upon him, which hid him from sight, and he continued to sleep for seventy years. When he awoke, he saw a man gathering the fruit of the carob tree, and he asked him, 'Are you the man who planted the tree?' The man replied, 'I am his grandson.' Thereupon, he exclaimed, 'It is clear that I slept for seventy years.”
The Talmud (Ta’anit 23b)
I went straight from the Shabbaton to the Prizmah Conference held in Boston this year. Prizmah is the umbrella organization of Jewish Day Schools that hosts a national conference every other year. Thousands of professional and lay leaders from Jewish day schools gathered to share best practices and be inspired. We were all in the same room for meals, and it was very special to stand up and look at a room of so many people who are extremely committed to the Jewish future. At the same time, it was a room of people who were exhausted. This is well known as the hump of the school year. We all needed rejuvenation, and I know I got it from this gathering. In fact, I know the exact moment it happened; it was when we heard about the results of the most recent Prizmah report on Jewish Education titled, "Jewish Day School Alumni on Campus: A Comparative Analysis of Engagement and Identity". The main findings are as follows:
Day school alumni are more than twice as likely (81%) to say Jewish identity is very important to them compared to those who did not attend day school (35%).
56% of Jewish day school alumni feel “very close” to the Jewish community right now, compared to 19% of Jewish college students who did not attend Jewish day school.
Jewish college students who attended Jewish day school (61%) are four times more likely to feel a strong connection to Israel compared to those who didn't attend Jewish day school (16%).
Twice as many Jewish day school alumni engage in Jewish life on campus regularly (53% compared to 23% who didn’t attend day school).
This report is a very affirming reminder of the long-term dividends of investing in Jewish education.
I was reminded of how hard we worked to launch our minyan and care for the community without any professional support in those first years. For the minyan leadership, it was a second full-time job. All that time, we had no idea whether the community would survive us. Coming back so many years later and seeing it flourish to the point where it is shaping Jewish family life for so many people we have never met makes it all worth it.
At this moment in the year, when we sign our enrollment contracts and employment contracts, I want to thank everyone for making this critical and often challenging choice for the furthering of our children and our people. This coming week, as we celebrate Tu Bishvat, the holiday of the trees, we should remember the story of Choni. Each of us who chooses a career teaching in schools stretches to pay for Jewish education for our children, chooses a place to live in order to access Jewish education, donates to support Jewish education, and serves in lay leadership of Jewish day schools. Altogether, we plant seeds that bear very important fruit.
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