A Thornhill camp finds ways to integrate Judaism into its activities,
Fresh Air Fund has been pivotal for unique summer retreat merging religion, arts and sports Boys at Thornhill’s Camp Segula can participate in guitar and drum lessons.
Daniel Rothenstein, 11, swipes a paintbrush down the length of a rectangular wooden box before sitting back to contemplate his next move.
He scans his arts and crafts project for imperfections, but doesn’t lose focus despite the banter and chuckling from fellow preteens also immersed in painting their own boxes.
It’s a scene you’d expect at any summer camp. But rather than a bird feeder or a simple stool, these kids are putting the finishing touches on their Shabbat lamps, devices outfitted with LED lights that don’t force the user to turn electricity on or off during the Sabbath. That’s when orthodox Jews can’t turn on power sources or flip switches for about 24 hours.
The project, devised by Rabbi Shloma Chayn, is a subtle nod to how camp Segula is a bit different.
“I don’t think there’s any camp that does anything like this,” says Chayn, Segula’s founder and director. “We are unique in many ways.”
Catering to Orthodox Jewish boys between 11 and 14 years old, this Thornhill day camp tries to relate some summer activities to Judaism and foster an environment that’s, first and foremost, fun. It offers kosher food, for instance, and sneaks in about 45 minutes of bible study between activities like cartooning, guitar and drum lessons, and special trips including a day of treetop trecking in Barrie, Ont., and an overnight in Niagara Falls.
Of course, it wouldn’t be camp without lots and lots of sports. The boys spend a large part of their day playing basketball, football, hockey, soccer and swimming, Chayn says.
Camper Moshe Baturi, 11, says being at Segula is a “mitzvah,” meaning a good thing to do, because “we get to play fun sports” and also learn about the bible. That’s music to Chayn’s ears. As a rabbi who has long served Toronto’s Orthodox Jewish community, he started the camp close to 40 years ago, he says, when he noticed that kids around 11 years old got tired of going to camps that cater to younger children.
He also noticed that when they didn’t have a daily summertime outlet, or if their families couldn’t afford to send them to overnight camps, part of the local, Jewish fabric, the kids were “wandering around without a structure.”
“Where would they go?” he says, recently reflecting on the history of his day camp. “I filled the vacuum and it grew.” Chayn offers deep subsidies to families who can’t afford to send their kids to camp, even allowing some in for free, he says, and that’s why the Star’s Fresh Air Fund has been pivotal to Segula’s existence.
This year, about 60 campers fill a gymnasium and three classrooms at a Thornhill public school. On a recent afternoon, a group of kids learn guitar or shoot hoops while others pore over sketch pads.
Azi Neger, 13, balances one on his knee, pencil poised over the contours of an action figure he’s drawing.
“Where’s my eraser?” he says, scanning his desk and those of his fellow, budding cartoonists. Neger barely notices that the teacher Yehuda Lang, also the national art director for the Jewish National Fund, is standing over a white board and leading this tiny group of preteens through the drawing of a robot with giant arms, and some squiggly features.
“They’re very good,” he says of his camper-students. “It’s humbling.”
A room away, Eldan Cohen, a music teacher, strums a guitar and sings a song with no words called “Elul Nigun”, a popular melody in the Orthodox Jewish community, while an11-year-old camper figures out the beat, striking the snare drum and crash symbol, not to mention pumping the bass drum’s kick peddle with the confidence of a seasoned drummer.
“This is our third time together!” Cohen says, above the thump-crashing, enthused about his campers and how quickly they’ve learned to play. He turns his attention back to the camper at the drum set.
“Get ready for a crash cymbal!” Cohen says.
In the gymnasium, groups of boys who just finished lunch at the tables on the stage, jockey to snag a basketball.
Yitzchak Rose, 13, reclines in a chair on the stage, taking in all the action. If he wasn’t at camp what would he be doing? “Sleeping and playing on my phone,” he says, conceding that camp is better.
Back in the classroom where campers are making the Shabbat lamps, Chayn walks around wearing latex gloves and filling paper plates with paint. Rothenstein is finishing his project.
“I read a lot, so this is going to be very helpful,” he says. “It doesn’t just have to be for Shabbat. All my lights are way too bright to use under my covers, so I could keep this, like, a little bit open and I’ll be able to read without my parents finding out.”