Reflections From the Shores – Meyer Rosenthal
Hello, my name is Meyer Rosenthal, and this is my 12th summer on the shores. With all that time here, believe it or not, this is my first sermon. I’ve always shied away from speaking to all of camp, not due to a fear of public speaking, but because I believe writing a sermon is an impossible task. A sermon asks you to put your thoughts, lessons, memories, and any other feelings you have about Kawaga into a short essay.
I believe it was the words of Bri in her Visitor’s Weekend sermon that have always stuck with me: Trying to describe camp is like trying to describe the night sky to someone who’s never seen it before. No matter how detailed or long your description is, it will never scratch the surface of the depth and beauty of the stars. You truly have to experience it to understand it.
Don’t get me wrong; I have certainly tried. I have written countless sermons in my head. Some have been about my time striving for double sachem and what it meant for me. Others discussed my brothers, Frank, the Ethans, John, Tyson, and Oogs, along with the rest of the 2022 CITs. Despite drawing from my happiest moments with them, the experiences that shaped me, and the memories I will never forget, not once have I been able to create a sermon that satisfied me in capturing camp’s meaning. After searching endlessly through the positives, I began to look at my lowest moments during my time at camp.
When I was twelve years old, my great-grandfather passed away. It so happened that at the time of his passing I was at camp. I remember the confusion when I was handed a phone with my mother on the other end of the line and how quickly the excitement in hearing her voice changed to tears as I heard the news. I had never experienced someone close to me passing away, I could barely comprehend it. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug my mom, but I couldn’t. She was 323 miles away in Chicago, along with all my family members who could understand what I was going through. I cried my way back to my cabin and collapsed in my bed.
What happened next changed my life. My counselor, Garret Smith, walked me to the wharf. In between breaks of sobs, he guided me through deep breaths. As I calmed down, he asked me to point out everything I noticed in front of me.
At first, I noticed the trees gracefully swaying in the wind. I listened as the soft hush of leaves brushing into each other carried through the air. I took notice of the waves, growing with the wind as they lightly washed ashore. The clouds were large and picturesque, and an eagle soared high in the distance.
The next thing I noticed was how calm I felt. Taking in the beauty of my surroundings grounded me. I felt the presence of my great grandfather in the wind, the waves, the trees, and all around me.
In every big powwow, Kappy makes the following blessing: “To the Mother Earth, from whence man came, and whither man shall return, we ask thy blessing.” I finally understood it. My grandfather had returned to the earth. I began to understand that what happened was natural and okay. That experience opened my mind to considering life’s purpose and the importance of nature.
That philosophy was challenged during Covid-19. Quarantined at home, I became severely depressed. My life felt like it had fallen apart, and trapped indoors with the only natural setting being the sidewalk around my house, there were times I saw no hope. What kept me going was the slightest possibility of a summer at Kawaga. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if not for camp. The moment I returned, I could feel myself starting to rehabilitate among the trees and the fresh air. Getting back to a healthy mind and body took years and wasn’t easy, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the people and the setting of Kawaga made it possible. I don’t believe time in nature for reflection is just a nice-to-have. I believe it’s a necessity. Kawaga gives that necessity to boys who spend the rest of their year surrounded by skyscrapers and concrete.
From Doc E’s “God is the Great Outdoors” saying, to the echoing cheers of “Who owns man? Nature! Who owns nature? Nobody!”, connection to the land and mother earth is the founding principle of Kawaga. It’s no coincidence that part of making sachem is a nature walk, powwows take place under the stars, and it is a requirement to take an outdoor adventure club to make Mawanda. The woods that surround us give a unique opportunity for silent, undisturbed reflection that make Kawaga’s traditions meaningful and triumphant in their goals of growth and reflection. Our traditions and this camp could not prevail without it.
When it comes to leaving an impact on camp, what I will be most proud of is not flickerball posts or the feathers in my headband, it will be the incredible experiences I have given others on Boundary Waters. There is no greater bonding experience than beholding the beauty of the natural landscape while persevering through the primal difficulties of long days, muddy portages, and sharing meals by a fire. You are physically forced to look inward for purpose and motivation when the wind pushes your canoe away from shore, when the bags on your back require all your focus and effort for each step, and when thunder shakes the earth beneath your tent. The same moments of reflection come from the eternal peace of placid sunsets and the complete remoteness of the natural landscape.
I have been lucky enough to lead these trips with two of my biggest mentors, Jonathan Levitan and Spencer Stone, whose leadership styles I try to emulate as a CIT counselor, certainly my most difficult role yet. Those trips also made me connect with campers I wasn’t the closest with before, who I am now honored to share my time on staff with. Just this year, John Menfi joined me in leading a group, which was an awesome full-circle moment, as he was a camper on my first trip as a staff member.
This year’s trip was incredibly special as I took my own campers for the first time, the 2026 CITs. These trips breed bonding moments and memories, and I am so grateful I got to spend them with my campers. I hope you guys had an amazing time and connected with nature and each other. One day it will be you guys taking the future Kawaga braves into the wilderness.
It pains me to deliver this sermon as the smoke of forest fires burning the very trees we camped under just three weeks ago fill our air, and our own government’s policies continue to strip the land of its protections. As with many things, the natural beauty of this place is a privilege. There is no guarantee this place will last forever. The spirit of camp is not in the facilities, but in the land itself.
With that being said, campers, I ask one favor of you: when you hear about an upcoming camping trip, greet the news with excitement. Few people in the world have the opportunity to camp with all of their friends, swim in fresh lakes, and hike through lush mountains. Those trips, while not luxurious, are a breeding ground for your memories. Staff, keep making the trips fun, the traditions strong, and keep the land pristine.
While I have spent this sermon speaking on behalf of the land, it is you guys that make this place special too. The true privilege is taking it all in with you guys. The double rainbows, picturesque sunsets, and eagle flybys are nothing without the shared experience of seeing them together. It brings me comfort knowing I don’t have to describe my memories like the night sky, the experience is shared. Of course, my favorite memories from the Boundary Waters come from my fellow CITs. Coming up with hunt ideas on the canoe, yelling at Evan Gold to paddle harder, and bantering in the tent. Thank you for the memories. I truly hope my experiences at camp have prepared me for my greatest challenge yet, a summer not at camp. It’s hard to imagine not starting the day in Lake Kawaguesaga, shaded by the leaves of tall pines and eagles overhead. Or even scarier, spending a summer without all of you. I am so grateful for my time here and for having people I can truly call my brothers. Not much else to say besides to my fellow 22s: Kaufman, Levine, Tyson, Oogie, Frank, and John, I love you guys. If not next summer, I cannot wait until we are all back together. Thank you for making my life so amazing. CIT 22 forever.