Jewish summer camps have been evolving for a century − but 2024 is a summer like no other

In 1902, 10-year-old Isidore Itzkowitz accepted a scholarship to attend an overnight camp in upstate New York. “Izzy,” an orphan raised by his grandmother in a dingy tenement-house basement, fit the profile of children the Educational Alliance, a settlement house, was looking to help. The animating idea of its camp was to take working-class Jewish boys off the hot and congested Lower East Side streets and introduce them to “the great outdoors in a wholesome and beautiful atmosphere away from home.”

The experience profoundly affected Itzkowitz, who would later become known as Eddie Cantor – one of the most popular entertainers of the mid-20th century.

Now called Surprise Lake Camp, it still sits on the same forested property that Cantor knew in his youth. But the tents and farmhouse of 1902 have been replaced by state-of-the-art facilities, including a zip line, tennis and pickleball courts and the Eddie Cantor Theater.

The clientele has also changed – and the purpose. In Cantor’s day, the camp was boys-only, and directors were concerned with Americanization and social uplift. In 2024, Surprise Lake is coed, and though there are still scholarships, it caters to middle- and upper-middle-class families. Most notably, the camp leans far more heavily into its Jewish identity and values than it didin its early decades, including Jewish rituals and Hebrewlanguage infusion.

Camp Surprise Lake’s transition is emblematic of a wider evolution within Jewish summer camps – one I research as a scholar of Jewish education. They have served a variety of purposes over time and hold diverse views on every aspect of Jewish faith and culture, including Israel.

This summer, camps are navigating a shaky landscape transformed by Hamas’Oct. 7, 2023, attack and Israel’s response: deciding whether and how to discuss the war in Gaza, fears of antisemitism in the U.S., and political debates about Israel.

Jewish camps past and present

Even in the 1920s and ’30s, Jewish camps came in a variety of flavors. In addition to “fresh air” camps like Surprise Lake, there were Jewish culture camps dedicated to Yiddish and Zionism – the movement to establish and consolidate a Jewish homeland and revive Hebrew culture – as well as more exclusive camps for children of the well-to-do.

In the 1940s and ’50s, the industry grew to serve an expanding Jewish middle class. In the wake of the Holocaust, which decimated established Jewish communities in Europe, some Jewish Americans looked to summer camps as leadership training grounds for the next generation. Likewise, Jewish religious movements viewed camp as a tool to revitalize their denominations.

Over the years, Jewish camps have leaned into various facets of Jewish American identity, including social justice, environmentalism, the arts and Jewish ritual observance. Since Israel’s founding in 1948, many camps also make a point of celebrating its culture. Camps incorporate Hebrew music and Israeli folk dancing, infuse Hebrew words such as “boker tov” (good morning) and “ruach” (spiritedness) into the camp vocabulary and serve Israeli foods in the “chadar ochel” (dining hall).

At times, the focus on Israel has served as a way to cultivate Jewish pride during challenging times. Most Jewish Americans’ sense of acceptance into American society increased over the second half of the 20th century, as fears about antisemitismsubsided. But that sense of security has been shaken many times – including the 2017 “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville and the 2018 massacre at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh.

A challenging landscape

Hamas’ attack, the relentless war in Gaza and political debate over the conflict have been especially destabilizing. In recent years, most concerns about antisemitism centered on the far right. But the past year has also unmasked antisemitism on the far left.

Further complicating matters is that support for Israel has become a bitter source of contention in Jewish American communities, especially among younger, more progressive Jews.

As with the rise of antisemitism, the fraying of the Jewish American consensus on Israel has been yearsin the making. The shift in attitude cannot be disentangled from its wider political context – including an increasingly illiberal Israeli government.

While many younger Jews remain emotionally connected to Israel, they are more vocal in their criticism of its policies and skeptical that it is truly interested in an equitable peace with the Palestinians. A sizable percentage of protesters in campus encampments last spring were Jewish students motivated, in part, by their commitment to Jewish values, even as many other Jewish studentsreported feeling unsafe.

All of this leaves Jewish camps with a considerable set of challenges. Part of summer camps’ magic is being a “bubble” from the “real world”: a closed-off, nurturing environment of controlled freedom and fun, away from family and school, which encourages kids’ growth through managed risk-taking. Serious discussions about current events, especially those that are grim, can burst that bubble.

When colleagues and I visited Jewish summer camps in July 2014, during a seven-week war between Israel and Hamas, staff were understandably reluctant to discuss the unfolding events with the kids. Yet the reverberations were evident. Counselors were mostly careful to discuss the latest news out of earshot of their charges. But at times the tension was palpable.

Today’s dilemma

This summer, the emotional baggage of the past 10 months has accompanied youngsters and staff to camp just as surely as their trunks and duffel bags.

Some, especially those who have felt isolated in their schools and neighborhoods, may be eager to process events with camp friends and trusted elders. Jewish camps in parts of the South and lower Midwest, in particular, frequently attract campers from tiny Jewish communities who have few if any other Jewish peers and may crave an opportunity to share their feelings. Others undoubtedly welcome the refuge that camp offers and are depending on staff to preserve the bubble.

Deciding to discuss the Israel-Hamas conflict and antisemitism carries other risks, as well. Counselors’ importance as role models is undisputed, but they are not trained teachers or therapists. Back in July 2014, we frequently encountered counselors who felt ill-prepared to facilitate dicey conversations about the conflict, and with good reason. They are typically high school and college students, only a few years older than the children in their care, and many are struggling with their own feelings about the war – especially Israelis, whom Jewish camps often hire to fill out their staff.

As with the COVID-19 crisis, camps have mostly been improvising their way through this summer’s challenges. But when the season ends, I believe camps will need to reflect and reassess their approaches.

They would do well to consult experts who have studied how Jewish children and teens make sense of Israel and the conflict. They may also want to reassess the long-term efficacy of “feel-good” Israel programming that obscures or oversimplifies the conflict. As Surprise Lake demonstrates, however, camps have proven their ability to adapt in the past without sacrificing their missions.

Jonathan Krasner's research on Jewish summer camps was funded in part by the Consortium for Applied Studies in Jewish Education and the Mandel Center for Studies in Jewish Education.