It never rains at Camp Simcha, at least for its remarkable campers. Camp Simcha is very similar to your traditional sleepaway camp, with soccer fields, swimming pools and a cafeteria. The only difference is that every single camper has cancer or another serious illness. So for two weeks a year, these children get to leave their hospital beds and act like kids (the camp is actually stocked with first-class medical facilities, but they are hidden in the background). I can truly say that it is a miraculous place, a celebration of life.
This summer was my fourth year going to Deal Day at Camp Simcha. Even though the schedule for Deal Day is always the same, it is something I will never get tired of. I know that, Baruch Hashem, I will be returning to Deal Day for the next 50 years.
It is a place about selfless giving. We are not there to see the Harlem Globetrotters or go to a carnival. The camp is about instilling joy and strength in the lives of the 97 campers.
This summer I realized that it is we, the volunteers, who are walking away with the most. For one day a year, all that we take for granted is turned upside down. We get to leave our world of cell phones and engagement parties to uplift someone else. And by giving, we get to share in the joy, too.
After spending time with the campers, I realized that they are the same as our own kids. Shimmy, a four-year-old boy who should be in car seat commercials, got me soaked as we played in a giant puddle of mud. Steven from Atlanta told me about his dream to play for the Yankees and Tobias, an eight-year-old with a photographic memory, recited (from memory) six playful and moving poems that he wrote. And these are just the stories of my own friends—as the group of volunteers rode home on the bus, each told about the kids they met and spent the day with. Everyone had loads of stories, and made tons of friends at Camp Simcha.
It is no accident that Camp Simcha is held during the three weeks of mourning for the destruction of our holy temples. Our rabbis tell us that the sin of idol worship, which destroyed the first temple, was rectified after 70 years. Then, Hashem gave us a Second Temple. But the sin of sinat chinam (baseless hatred) is still going strong to this day.
At Camp Simcha they do not mourn over the destruction of the temples like we do. They still dance, they still sing. Instead, they just rectify the sins that destroyed it. The entire place is completely built on ahavat chinam (baseless love). You can see it in the faces of the children, and you can see it in the way that all kinds of Jews come together to support one another.
When we first got off the bus, Mark Franco, one of the Syrian program directors, told us to put on our A-game. He meant that we must all be extremely positive and energetic. By the end of the day of playing and singing, we were all exhausted, but satisfied. As we drove away, everyone knew they had received so much from the camp. Our energy and excitement really uplifted the lives of 97 children. This was the day they wait for all year. And we were all grateful to be a part of that.
I would like to end with one experience in particuIar that I had at Camp Simcha. After the usual party that follows lunch, I went with my new friend, Menachem Moshe, down to the pottery room. Menachem Moshe is your typical Camp Simcha tough guy. He enjoyed wrestling me to the ground and soaking me with water, but he also picked me up and dried me off. Menachem showed me the clay mezuzah he made, and while he painted it, I decided to make him a pear out of clay. And as I sat in the craft room with Menachem Moshe, I realized something—Deal Day for him is not just a fun day of presents and singing. He is going to keep that clay pear I made for him by his bedside for the entire year. And every time he looks at that clay pear, it will take him out of the hospital walls, back to Camp Simcha. And at the end of the night, when we had to leave, Menachem gave me the biggest, most sincere hug I had ever been given in my life. And for what it was worth, I tried to squeeze him hard, too. They say, “It never rains at Camp Simcha.” Well, I don’t know about that, but I can certainly say, for two weeks a year these kids forget about rainy days.
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Maurice Harary is a community member.
