From “No Entiendo” to Shema

“No entiendo” (I don’t understand) became my motto for our BJ Teen trip to the Dominican Republic this past February. Trying to communicate with locals about how to properly mix the cement to build a school patio, asking questions and not understanding the answers at neighborhood businesses, and attempting to decode the trash-talking about my domino-playing abilities all ended in that same sentiment. 

But it wasn’t just the language barrier. Even when I could piece together conversations in my broken Spanish, I struggled to grasp the full meaning behind what I was hearing—the mix of resilience and hardship, the everyday joys and the systemic challenges.

I couldn’t wrap my head around why my homestay host, a dedicated healthcare worker, had to battle endless burocracia just to get her patients the care they needed. I didn’t understand how a neighborhood could feel so tight-knit yet so exposed, with three-year-olds roaming freely from house to house, welcomed wherever they went. The more I saw, the more I realized how much I didn’t fully understand.

That feeling of not understanding didn’t start in the DR. It was with me two years prior, on my BJ Teen trip to Arizona, where I stood at the border, listening to a Border Patrol officer justify policies that activists had just explained to us caused a host of human rights violations. It was there on the BJ Teen Civil Rights education trip, where I walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, knowing the history of the march but struggling to reconcile the historical victories with the pervasive inequality that exists today. 

But BJ has also taught me that not understanding doesn’t mean disengaging. If anything, it makes listening more important. I can listen to the history of our country’s civil rights movement and be an active ally in the ongoing fight against discrimination. I can listen to frustrations with unjust laws and bureaucratic obstacles and work to change those systems through my future studies in politics. I can keep learning Spanish to better transcend language barriers. 

I believe that listening is one of the holiest things we can do, especially when it is followed up with action. That’s why I love that one of our religion’s central prayers begins with the word, “hear.”  

“שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָֽד”

“Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”

Saying the Shema, reaffirming the sacredness of listening, has been a part of critical moments of my upbringing up at BJ. I remember saying the Shema weekly in prayers at Hebrew school. Years later, I recall chanting the Shema while holding the Torah and looking up to the balcony to see my BJ friends tearing up on the day of my bat mitzvah. Most recently, I remember the encouraging smiles given to me by those same friends as I stood at the front of the High Holy Day services and delivered a kavannah about the importance of feeling unity in hearing one another say the words of this prayer. 

I am eternally grateful that BJ has infused in me the importance of listening, both in my faith and in practice. It has allowed me to form deep connections and embrace complexity, even when I might not fully understand something.

Shabbat Shalom,

Annie Bovitz