By Cori Miller

I’m going to start today with a story. It’s about a boy who struggled, who made a lot of mistakes and one day did something really bad.  What he did doesn’t matter, but what did matter what that he felt that it would always define him; that he would forever be judged because of what he had done.  Maybe many of us, in fact most likely all of us can relate to this, it would be surprising in a group of this size for it not to be the case.  We’ve all behaved or made choices in our lives that made us feel bad, some of us sitting here might reflect and actually be thinking of something like this that happened during this session, while others might think of a poor choice made at some other point in our lives.  This boy I was talking about truly felt like nobody would be in his corner, nobody would forgive him or see that sometimes a good person can make a bad decision.  That sometimes you can be trying to do the best you can do, and it just doesn’t work out the way you had hoped.  But let me continue with the story.  Just when this boy felt about as bad as he could, he retreated to his room and saw a box on a desk with his name on it.  He opened it up to find a rock and a small note, which read “This rock is over 200,000 years old; that is how long it would take for me to ever give up on you.”   And in that moment, 22 words showing compassion and forgiveness changed everything.

This weeks Torah portion Devarim, means “words.”  And honestly, as I sat at my computer last night at 1am, to scribe my thoughts for today, I felt at a loss for words. What popped into my head was this story that I had actually shared 3 years ago at camp, and I felt compelled to share it again.  But this time, instead of it being a conduit to discuss the journeys we all take a camp, I feel compelled today to think about the power of words, Devarim.  In the story I just read, words were so powerful to eradicate and repair.  Our words, when chosen wisely, can carry undeniable force as we decide whether to use words to encourage, or to be destructive, to help or to heal, to hurt or to harm.

Choosing our words wisely should guide us as we interact with others. We should speak the truth, avoid exaggerations or gossip, We should remember to “say what we mean and mean what we say.”  We should try not to use our words to manipulate others, and most importantly really, we shouldn’t use words to insult or belittle anyone.

Gary Chapman in his book, Love as a Way of Life uses the vivid metaphor for words as being either ‘bullets or seeds’. He say, “If we use our words as bullets with a feeling of superiority and condemnation, we are not going to be able to restore a relationship to love. If we use our words as seeds with a feeling of supportiveness and sincere good will, we can rebuild a relationship in positive and life-affirming ways.”

Cori with her two children

Our words, woven together, become our stories.  We all have stories, many might seem similar, but I am always struck about how we don’t always know each others’ stories.  Maybe it’s a way to protect ourselves, knowing that we make the decision of who we want to share our story with.  That we realize that you don’t know someone’s story by looking at them.  Maybe here, we can ask others “what is your story” and use this as a way to deepen our relationships and find things that bind us together.  Our stories are all unique, but many of us could feel tremendous bonds with each other when we share our words and learn that others might share similar stories.  That none of us are alone.  I hope that here, at Harlam, this feels like a safe place to tell our stories with greater ease.  That here, we know that our stories share our history, but don’t have to define who we are forever. We can share our stories and almost more importantly we can ask others to share their stories.

I didn’t go to camp.  I never experienced camp relationships that have forever bonded me with bunkmates.  For me, It is actually the power of many of your spoken words and your stories that makes camp such a very special place to me.  So for that, I want to say thank you for that and Shabbat Shalom.

Cori Miller is Head of our Camper Care Department. She lives in Amber, PA with her husband, 2 children and her dog. Cori treasures time with family and friends, plays piano and tennis, enjoys making mosaics.