One of a Kind.
The very best.
When it comes to my memories of Jack Cristil, who passed away last week, there are simply too many memories to count. Each cherished memory cements this truth: For all of those loyal to our beloved Dawgs (The Mississippi State Bulldogs, for those of you who might unfamiliar), there is and will always be just one Jack Cristil.
For decades, we Dawgs lovers lived to hear “You can wrap this one in Maroon and White!” at the end of a game – that was Jack’s famous ending when the Dawgs were victorious. My family, particularly my father and I, spent many hours listening to Jack Cristil call ballgames on the radio. We did this long before there were so many games on television—the power of his voice made the radio broadcasts as riveting as if we were right there looking at the field with Jack.
Jack always gave details about the players, the coaches, the fans, the atmosphere - he truly had that power to make you feel like you were actually at the game. He could describe everything so vividly that you knew exactly what was going on – the ups, and the downs! We cheered and sighed right along with him. He had a unique gift and skill that put him above other broadcasters. What a voice!
As games became more routinely televised, we would mute the sound while watching the game and listen to Jack call the game on the radio. And we didn’t talk when Jack was talking. Jack was a dedicated ambassador for his community, for Mississippi State University, and for the entire state of Mississippi.
As I came to learn through my work with the ISJL, Jack was also a dedicated community leader. He led services at his home congregation, B’nai Israel in Tupelo, Mississippi. For the Dawgs, for his local civic and Jewish community, and for anyone who ever heard that powerful voice—Jack Cristil will never be forgotten.
I took a look at my cell phone clock, which read 7:05 AM. I was incredibly sleepy, but not because I had just woken up. No, this was because I had not even gone to sleep in the first place.
I’m not in college anymore, so I didn’t need to pull an all-nighter to study for a test—this was absolutely, completely voluntary. I was at Limmud Atlanta + Southeast, taking place at Ramah Darom, a gorgeous summer camp. And if I were to go to sleep, that would mean sacrificing a few hours of an unbelievably wonderful Jewish experience.
Limmud Atlanta is hard to describe without seeing it up close and personal, but here’s my best attempt: take a fun Southern camping trip, mix it with a gloriously-overwhelming amount of Jewish learning, and sprinkle a 72-hour-long jam session on top. Stir it all together. Baddabing baddaboom—that’s my short and sweet approximation of Limmud Atlanta.
Here were some of the most memorable, totally-worth-sacrificing sleep experiences I had over the course of the conference.
- Tying together the concept of Tzedakah and episodes of Orange is the New Black
- Making percussion noises to best imitate what the 6th day of creation would sound like, in a session whose title asked me to “Get my Soul Vibration On”
- Learning how to play a board game entitled Settlers of Canaan – all about the Holy Temple in Jerusalem
Limmud Atlanta was educational. It was fun. It was, for close to 72 hours, thoroughly, awesomely ridiculous, in the best and most Jewish of ways.
Most importantly, it reminded of something I’ve long held to be true: Jewish conferences are, without a doubt, one of the best tools towards deepening Jewish identity, both personal and communal. Limmud Atlanta helped me remember that there is no substitute for deeply immersing in Jewish life for an extended period of time—even just a few days.
But some of you might be wondering…okay, so Limmud Atlanta sounds amazing, but what about all of the Jewish conferences out there that aren’t so dynamic? My response might sound a bit unorthodox: it is my heartfelt belief that attending even a sub-par Jewish conference is a substantially better allocation of Jewish time and resources than the vast majority of briefer Jewish engagement experiences.
This might seem strange at first, but hear me out. When at a conference—even one that does not achieve its goals particularly effectively—you enter into a mental framework. For two or three consecutive days, you immerse yourself in a particular subject matter. At a political science conference, attendees expand mental energy, for a couple days on the topic of political science. Same for a conference about feminism, or the Middle East, or anything else. At a Jewish conference, everyone there spends at least a couple days of their lives focused specifically on Judaism: On Jewish community, Jewish learning, Jewish history, Jewish culture, and of course, on Jewish food.
Now, I am very lucky to work for a Jewish organization. I spend at least 8.5 hours a day connecting to Judaism in some form. But many people struggle to allocate substantial time to Jewish engagement. There’s work, there are family commitments, perhaps some time for recreation here and there—important elements of our day-to-day existence that make any sort of intensive Jewish engagement difficult from one day to the next.
But by attending a Jewish conference, that paradigm breaks. It might normally take two full months to accrue 48 hours of “engagement” time in the Jewish community—and that’s for an actively involved Jew spending 5-6 hours a week in some sort of Jewish context. At a 72-hour Jewish conference, even after subtracting 8-hours a night for sleep (if, unlike me, you choose to indulge in some shut-eye!), you can reach that same 48-hour threshold in just three days. Even if the programming isn’t perfect, the experience is powerful. It’s transformative. Occasionally, it can be life-changing.
So, I would ask each of you reading this, please look for a Jewish conference happening near you. Don’t go just to make me happy (though I assure you, I will be, especially if I see you there)! Go because, odds are, it will help you evolve and grow as you undertake your own Jewish journey.
(And seriously, don’t you want to learn how to get your soul vibration on???)
It’s that time of year. The holidays are on my mind, and in my heart.
The sound of the Shofar for me is a primal calling, something that touches my soul as a beautiful and startling awakening. Each year I feel astonished that I have not even noticed my own drift into semi-conscious life until I hear that shofar and my mind, body and soul suddenly come together to shake me to my core.
How does it happen each year to slowly and imperceptibly drift into semi consciousness? I am so “busy” with life, that during the year a protective barrier forms somewhere between my soul and my mind and body to insulate me from this fully awakened state.
If the barrier was not there, could I live and be productive doing mundane tasks in everyday life? What if I could block the barrier from growing back? Would I then be able to fully realize the holiness in every task that I do? Would that kind of holy awareness be too much for me to handle all the time?
If I was fully aware of holiness all the time, would I lose the awe of the awakening?
How does a woman who believes in the truth of the Torah and all its’ teachings without believing it all as “fact” get moved to tears at the sound of Tekiah Gadola as the metaphorical gates are closing at the very end of Neilah Service? How has it happened year in and year out for so many years and yet still….. it surprises me?
These are just a few of the questions that I am asking myself this High Holy Day season in preparation for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when I will sit in the pews at my home synagogue in New Orleans and be awakened again by the call of the shofar as a new year begins.
What questions are on your mind as you reflect throughout this holy season?
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