The intentionality of a space is in all the little details: my name, printed on my door, the journal waiting for me on my bed, lunch ready upon arrival. This was my experience of Retreatology: Tikkun Olam edition, a Mem Global program where, over the course of a weekend, and with the help of Jewish educators, you learn about how to host a Jewish learning retreat of your own.  

This wasn’t my first Mem Global program – I’ve been to Camp Nai Nai Nai, a Moishe House Without Walls Host program, and a few service learning retreats. A hallmark of Mem Global retreats is Havdalah, the ritual transition from the holiness of Shabbat to the start of our week. I can remember each of the Havdalah ceremonies I’ve done on a retreat. They tend to be the most sacred moments. Our phones have been put away, we’ve learned and laughed together, and now, we’re ready to sing. 

At the Retreatology Havdalah, we created our own ritual inspired by a “Remixing Ritual” workshop held earlier that day. You lit the candle of the person next to you and said one word representing what brought light to you during the weekend. My first thought was “Jessica,” the name of our wonderful retreat facilitator. Then I thought “community.” But it wasn’t the truest word for me in that moment. What I settled on instead was “grief.” 

When meeting new people at a weekend retreat, you may think that everyone wants to keep things light and cheery. This hasn’t been my experience at Mem Global retreats – in the best way possible. As another participant reflected with me, it is sometimes easier to be vulnerable with strangers, and the intentional space and community we were building that weekend allowed me to connect with feelings that I had not been honoring. You need to feel safe in order to be vulnerable, and saying “grief” in that Havdalah circle caused me to reflect on just how safe I felt. 

When I came into the weekend, I didn’t know what kind of retreat I wanted to run. Through vulnerable moments and sessions led by our expert educators, I realized that I needed my retreat to be a container for my grief.  

As a restorative justice coordinator at a Title I DC public middle school, I hear about loss almost every day. I needed space to process it all: to grieve the loss of a student, the loss of two members of the Jewish community in DC, the loss of a 14 year old girl in DC to senseless gun use, the mental health struggles being faced by so many young men I know and love.  

The retreat I’m planning will provide a peaceful, healing space for people who work professionally with trauma-impacted populations, a space to recover, connect, and develop strategies to prevent evaporation from their cups. We will use Jewish wisdom to guide sustainable practice, nourishing rest, and peaceful transitions. We’ll have yoga, crafting, text study, and singing. It will offer an opportunity for participants to integrate their work into their full lives, to reconcile the grief and the joy, and moments to honor those who we work with. I am eager to bring this vision to life with others, hopefully more than once. 

One activity I’m especially excited to lead is inspired by an event I helped organize at work. For Mental Health Awareness Month in May, the rest of the mental health team at my school and I offered students a “griefitti” wall, an activity to write names, memories, or drawings of lost loved ones on a brick and hang it up in school, across from decorated windows shining colorful messages of hope. It was part of our “Be The Light” campaign, which aimed to normalize a connection between grief and joy. 

So yes, when the Havdalah leaders asked what brought light to our weekend, I said grief. Grief is what opened me up, helping me see my needs and how I can be of service to my community. One of the joys of Retreatology and the opportunity to make my own retreat is that it helps me integrate different parts of myself: to bring the pain of my work to my Jewish community, to bring the skills I learned in this retreat to my work, and hopefully, share a lot of the healing wisdom with others.