Why Parents Choose Gilboa for Their Children

There are lots of Jewish summer camps out there for parents to choose from.  So why do parents decide to send their kids to Gilboa? There are many reasons to choose our camp, including our focus on youth leadership, social justice, and experiential education; the kibbutz-like experience at our beautiful location in the mountains of Big Bear; and our nuanced approach to Zionism and Israel/Palestine. In today’s blog you’ll hear directly from a few Gilboa parents about the latter topic, and why they choose to be a part of our community.

This Sunday, you can learn more about how Gilboa creates intentional and inclusive spaces that foster dialogue.  Our campers learn how to think critically, come to their own conclusions, and engage with ideas that may differ from their own.  Register here to join us on June 8th at 10-11:30am PT for a Zoom peula (educational activity) that is open to all Gilboa community members to learn more about how we foster discussion across difference, led by Foundation for Jewish Camp professional Melissa Carter.

We still have some spots left for this summer!  Please check out our Dates & Rates page to register your camper, or reach out to Alison at alison@campgilboa.org with any questions.  Scholarships are available to help make camp affordable for every family.

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Habonim Dror Camp Gilboa: This Is What Fighting for a Better Future Looks Like, by Ben Cooley

As someone who grew up in Habonim Dror North America - at Camp Moshava outside Baltimore - and now sends my own kids to Camp Gilboa, I am profoundly grateful to the families who sacrificed so much to sustain this 90-year-old camp.  Yes, it’s older than the state of Israel.

Gilboa represents a uniquely progressive Jewish spirit that’s rooted in Southern California and practically unmatched anywhere else.  I’ve always felt privileged to be part of this community.  Today, many of us are feeling unmoored in this moment of fear, grief, and uncertainty, with the trauma of the last two years and the fear for our kids’ safety on college campuses.  But I also feel a deep obligation - to my ancestors and to the generations that will follow - to preserve and create a Judaism and Zionism grounded in justice, equality, and dignity for all people.

In this moment, Camp Gilboa is doing more than any other institution I know to keep young, progressive Jews connected to a Judaism that feels authentic and to a vision of Israel as a democratic, moral state.  These kids are engaging - not turning away.  They are fighting to stay in relationship with Israel, with our tradition, and with the hard, painful truths of this moment.  They are seeking nuance: supporting the people of Israel while holding its government accountable; advocating for the hostages, for Palestinian civilians, and for Israeli soldiers alike.

This should inspire all of us, because these young people have not forgotten what the founders of Camp Gilboa and HDNA understood long ago - that the struggle is not only against antisemitism, but also against rising fascism, injustice, and all forms of discrimination.  These young leaders are our best hope for a future grounded in equality, humanity, and enduring Jewish values.

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I’m Proud To Know My Kid Is Reckoning With Israel and Palestine at Camp, by Josh Kamensky

I never went to a Habonim Dror camp, and I was annoyed that a critical mass of my daughter’s friends went and made it inevitable that she would go to Gilboa and never attend my own beloved summer camp. As I learned about the camp, the romance of “Labor Zionism” resonated with me, but it also felt inadequate to achieving real justice in Israel-Palestine. Her friends’ parents reassured me that the camp’s orientation towards Israel was meaningfully engaged with the question of coexistence, and after a couple of summers my nagging questions were more along the lines of shouldn’t they go on more hikes? than anything else. The camp’s Jewish culture felt open, celebratory, of a piece with both her Silver Lake JCC upbringing and the way I had woven Jewish practice into my adult life, and far from the practices from my K-8 years in suburban Hebrew day schools that I had left behind. There, Israel’s actions were beyond reproach, and even discussing anything like the Nakba would have been incomprehensible, let alone offensive.

My feeling was confirmed at my first Camp Gilboa peula (educational activity, I didn’t know what it meant either) when two leaders in the youth movement presented the new pillar for Collective Liberation of the Peoples in Israel-Palestine. I was really impressed! I’d heard through other longtime Gilboa parents that the youth leaders were wrestling with their relationship to Israel and searching for clarity in their vision for peace. It would be far easier not to do anything at all. I think every liberal American Jew knows the feeling of wishing away hard conversations with friends or family. I was struck by the courage, creativity and heart with which the camp leaders presented the pillar and engaged the parents. 

My family and I don’t feel at home in the mainstream institutions of Jewish American life, where the tension between tikkun olam and the actions of the Israeli government goes stridently unmentioned. But I’ve successfully found communities, institutions and a magazine or two that offer a healthy distance from the world I grew up in, the world in which the Israeli government and the occupation were never to be questioned, and which still dominates our collective identity. I appreciate two things about the people I’ve met through Gilboa: first, they recognize that Palestinians are human beings too, and second, they seem to take seriously the moral and intellectual yearning of even very young children, and they nurture it in camp right up next to the dirt and sunburn and macramé (do we have macramé? my camp did) and songs and skits.

I have treated the Judaism of my youth like the orange on the seder plate, spitting out the seeds and keeping the sweetness. Being Jewish has become more important to me over the years, and my seders have grown longer and more annoying to my guests. I am grateful that my daughter has found a community that nurtures her pride in being Jewish without trying to settle her questions about it. 

I know the new pillar has made some parents uncomfortable. I’m uncomfortable too. The world’s largest population of child amputees lives in Gaza, and I am about to send my daughter to have fun at summer camp. That dissonance only feels tolerable because I know that Camp Gilboa is taking the collective liberation of both peoples seriously. I’m proud to know that, even at play in the woods in the summer, our children will make meaning out of the world we’ve given them.

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Wrestling With Israel at Gilboa: My Journey Toward Dialogue and Understanding, by Lara Dutta

When I first heard people at Gilboa using language about Israel that was unfamiliar and, frankly, unsettling to me, I was taken aback. I thought, “Oh my God, do they want to tear down everything I’ve been raised to believe in?” I felt angry and defensive. Israel has always been central to who I am.

My father was Israeli. My grandparents were Holocaust survivors, refugees who had nowhere else to go. Israel welcomed them when the world turned its back. Without Israel, I wouldn’t be here. I was raised with the belief that Israel was our homeland, our safe haven, the place that ensures the Jewish people will never again be without refuge. I feel that deeply, and I always will.

But something powerful happened at Gilboa. I listened. They listened. We talked. I came to understand that the people who were using different words were not trying to erase Israel or deny its right to exist. What I had first interpreted as threatening was actually the language of frustration, pain, and hope for a better future for everyone living in the region. In terms of values, what we want for Israel and the Middle East is remarkably aligned. We want peace. We want safety and dignity for Israelis and Palestinians alike. We want human rights and justice. We want an end to violence and fear.

I’ve learned a tremendous amount from tzevet (Gilboa counselors) and Gilboa’s young alumni board members. I hope they’ve also learned from me. What I cherish most now is that we’ve created a space where we can wrestle with the hard stuff. Where we don’t shy away from disagreements, but meet them with curiosity and care. That, to me, is Judaism at its best: questioning, debating, and seeking understanding.

I am proud to be part of Gilboa and Habonim Dror. This is not a place of silence or avoidance. It’s a community that cares deeply about Israel and all the people of the region. We care about the people of Israel. We care about the Palestinian people. We care about building a future where everyone can live side by side, in safety and dignity. That commitment is absolutely in line with our progressive values.

I also watch other Jewish communities and camps that have stopped talking about Israel entirely. I worry about that. Ignoring the hard conversations, pretending everything is fine, is not a healthy path forward. I believe that silence will hurt them in the long run. I would never want my children, or myself for that matter, to be in a community that looks away when things get difficult. I want to be in a place where we wrestle, because caring means engaging, even when it’s hard.

That’s why I’m still here. That’s why I remain proud. I’m proud of this community we are building. I’m proud to be raising young people who know they can love Israel, care about Palestinians, and believe in a better, more just future for everyone.

That is the Jewish community I want to be a part of. That is why Gilboa matters.