This piece originally appeared at PursueAction.org here.

As someone who is both involved with theater and in the middle of my year as an AVODAH Corps member in Brooklyn, Pursue’s event hosting the Theatre of the Oppressed workshop was a perfect combination. Theatre of the Oppressed combines a mix of improv games that focus on creatively rethinking our assumptions and social structures. The workshop’s dynamic facilitator led a series of games and activities that forced the group of 20- and 30-somethings to act silly and be creative in a way that is often hard to achieve in young adults. 

While we did several theater exercises and games, one in particular stood out for me. We were each asked to bring five pieces of “clean garbage” from home, and when we entered the workshop room in downtown Brooklyn, we placed our items on two long tables. There was anything from sketches to tea bags to plastic wrappers to empty liquor bottles on the table. When it came time, we were split into two groups and asked to make a person out of the pieces of “clean garbage.” We sat in a circle on the floor and each placed a piece of garbage down, hoping that the end result would resemble some sort of body. Throughout the process, I noticed myself feeling tense, getting angry when people were placing pieces in a spot I arbitrarily didn’t agree with. “Fine,” I resolved, “do what you like.” As we reflected on the experience later, I realized that I wanted to control the situation and was not comfortable with letting the group come to a shape on its own.  

What we created was something more beautiful and interesting than I certainly would have come up with on my own. We discussed where did this person come from, what its gender was, how old the person was. We named it a “trans pregnant man” who had a sparkle trail/leash with an animal/tail/extended leg. It was loony and silly, but we also discussed our issues with making quick judgments and assumptions, and what it’s like to read a body without having any real knowledge of the person.  

Thinking about this exercise in the context of my year in AVODAH and involvement with Pursue around Jewish social justice, calling out my assumptions about people is a really useful tool. While living in my house with 17 other Jewish people (16 of whom are women), it is easy to pre-judge people and imagine I know how each one will respond. Taking the time to actively rethink our assumptions and play with ways responses to those assumptions helped me to reimagine the ways that I interact with my housemates, my co-workers, and tenants I organize with in the Bronx.

Elise Goldin is from Evaston, IL and attended Macalester College. She is a Tenant Organizer at the Urban Homesteading Assistance Board, which supports self-help housing and community building in low-income neighborhoods by training, organizing, developing, and assisting resident-controlled limited-equity housing co-operatives.

By: Ilana Krakowski

This piece originally appeared in an edited version at N Street Village here.

On January 25th, I participated in the Point-in-Time Homeless Persons Count for DC alongside six other DC Corps members. This year, 4,000 cities around the country conducted a count of their homeless populations. The census aims to gather data on the number of sheltered and unsheltered homeless persons, and to assess the needs of those counted. Results of the census are compared to past years, to see what programs may have worked to reduce homelessness, and to see what other policies can ultimately eliminate it. Social service agencies conduct the survey on site during the day while volunteers search the streets for people at night. It was my first time participating in this project and overall, it was an eye-opening experience.

The plan to conduct the census is simple: walk around an assigned area, trying to identify and speak to as many homeless persons as possible. Each neighborhood in the city is given a team leader who divides that neighborhood into several parts. Two or three volunteers then search those sections, armed with both census surveys, information on emergency services, and gift cards to give away.

I was anxious at first by the idea of disturbing individuals to ask them personal questions. The survey asks for as much information as a person is willing to share: employment status; annual income; veteran status; histories of substance abuse, mental illness, domestic violence, and physical health; and social services utilized. Yet, after I introduced myself and the census, I found that most people were willing to share, and offered information on their homeless situations. We discovered homeless people in George Washington University’s emergency room, in parks, and under highways.  Many were hidden under piles of blankets, tucked away in nooks in the dark.

There were many moments where I recognized the range of the homeless experience. Some homeless persons reside in shelters or temporary housing. Others are more visible on city streets and public places, while others hide away underneath the infrastructure of civilization.  The last were the hardest to see and the hardest to take in. They go so unnoticed that it is no wonder the present existence of homelessness does not warrant a unanimous public outcry for its end. Many people we spoke to go to free day programs, like Miriam’s Kitchen, where they can receive meals, clothing, showers, and case management. Others receive food stamps or even hold part-time jobs – yet they still struggle with homelessness.

So far in my five months working at a social service and housing agency, I’ve learned that navigating the social service system to get adequate help requires a lot of patience and a strong will. It also can cause humiliation and shame for those who have to share so much personal information and give up their independence in order to access services. These are some of the reasons why someone would give up a bed in a shelter for the street. Of course, there are many more complex reasons too.

After four hours conducting the census, I left wanting our society to provide better opportunities for help. Those who find themselves homeless are still people, like you and I. They have histories that have not always been defined by homelessness. They have personalities, goals, and dreams beyond having basic needs met.

I was proud to have participated with my friends from AVODAH, one of whom knew many of the homeless individuals from his work placement at Miriam’s Kitchen and was excellent at connecting with them. I also felt that the work that I am doing at my placement, N Street Village, is ever more important, in spite of how hard and even frustrating it can be. The most important point that I think both my placement and AVODAH itself reinforces is that each person deserves to fulfill their potential. To help them do that in any way is certainly worth the fight.

Ilana Krakowski, from Brooklyn, NY, attended Barnard College and the Jewish Theological Seminary – List College. As an AVODAH DC Corps member, she is the Wellness Center Program Assistant at N Street Village, which helps women move from homelessness to independent living and deal with issues of substance abuse and mental illness through day and residential programs.

Working as an AVODAH Corp Member as a tenant organizer with the Urban Homesteading Assistance Board has been an enlightening experience. I’ve learned about things I never thought I’d learn like bank practices, mortgages, and foreclosure processes.  UHAB organizers work in distressed buildings in foreclosure where tenants face everything from rat infestations, to no heat or hot water for extended periods of time, to a landlord harassment.  While these situations are anything but funny, we wanted to illustrate the ridiculousness in landlord behavior and, through the “Sh*t ___ Say” format, shed light on real issues tenants face.

This video originally appeared on TheSurRealEstate blog here.

Elise Goldin is from Evaston, IL and attended Macalester College. She is a Tenant Organizer at the Urban Homesteading Assistance Board, which supports self-help housing and community building in low-income neighborhoods by training, organizing, developing, and assisting resident-controlled limited-equity housing co-operatives.

This piece originally appeared at PursueAction.org here.

Jewish law obliges us to look out for the health of others, even at considerable sacrifice. One rabbi in Babylonian Talmud Nedarin advises us to visit the sick 100 times a day, a symbolic call to keep their needs front and center in our minds. But how does U.S. policy hold up to these ideals? As an AVODAH Corps member working with Gay Men’s Health Crisis, the world’s first HIV/AIDS service provider, I see people with chronic health conditions battling to obtain the life-saving services that they deserve. Federal healthcare policy is at a crucial turning point with the Affordable Care Act (ACA), President Obama’s landmark healthcare legislation passed last year.

People with HIV are living longer, but their medical needs are increasingly complicated. Many experience additional chronic conditions like asthma, diabetes, and cardiac problems, and depend on a wide array of social services. HIV advocates work to ensure that clients receive the complete care that they need with minimal stress, while also considering severe budget constraints on Medicaid programs. Through the ACA, the federal government is pushing “coordinated care” as a strategy for increasing communication among providers and cutting down on administrative healthcare costs.

Coordinated care is organizational collaboration, focused on managing a chronic condition between a range of medical providers. Ideally, coordinated care services means coverage for the whole individual, taking all of a person’s needs into account, rather than isolated treatment for symptoms as they arise. Therefore coordinated care programs, in order to be successful, must prioritize the client’s own voice in all healthcare decision making.

The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services sees coordinated care as a cost-saving strategy because it means a more cohesive system. The rapid rise in U.S. healthcare over the past several decades has resulted less from higher quality care than from higher profits and administrative costs, as well as a remarkably disorganized system where providers maintain little contact with each other. Our healthcare system still functions on a profit-driven model that prioritizes short-term payment over the long-term well-being of patients. How are people with HIV supposed to manage their complex chronic conditions if neither they nor their doctors know the full picture of their health? Faulty referrals and incomplete background information make people with HIV more likely to be unnecessarily hospitalized or institutionalized, which can raise costs, stress, and even stigma. This lack of coordination can perpetuate and intensify health disparities, leaving the most vulnerable populations without adequate health support.

A more collaborative approach, where clients work with a single provider to anticipate long-term needs and oversee the delivery of all services, could streamline care, lessen wasteful bureaucracy, prevent duplicated services, and intervene early and prevent problems before they become dangerous and expensive. Yet we must be wary of the challenges that coordinated care can bring, especially when cost-saving is the driving force behind new policies. Clients value flexibility in choosing their healthcare providers, and an increasingly networked system could minimize their options. The transition into coordinated care could disrupt current client-provider relationships.

At Gay Men’s Health Crisis, I’ve come to understand that people affected by HIV/AIDS must have full control over their own healthcare if medical and social services are to succeed. Clients who feel a sense of ownership over their own health will personally commit to adhering to care. Saving Medicaid dollars is essential, but the voices of people affected by healthcare cannot be forgotten. You can start to amplify their voices by learning more: for information on what coordinated care will look like in New York, click here.

Liza Behrendt is from Durham, NH, and attended Brandeis University. As a New York AVODAH Corps member, she is a Community Organizer at Gay Men’s Health Crisis, which is committed to national leadership in the fight against AIDS. GMHC works hard to reduce the spread of HIV disease, helps people with HIV maintain and improve their health and independence, and keeps the prevention, treatment, and cure of HIV an urgent national and local priority.

When Norris Henderson, the Executive Director of my placement, Voice of the Ex-Offender,  told me that he could get me on the clearance list for an upcoming trip to The Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola, commonly referred to as Angola or The Farm, I jumped at the opportunity without even asking about the occasion.

That Tuesday before Thanksgiving I waited for a bus on Tulane and Broad Sts., which, when it finally came, was quickly filled with other community members, mostly lawyers and court employees. On the bus, Judge Laurie White reminded us that the purpose of this trip was, “we’ll show you what we are doing to address re-entry issues and you go back and tell the community.”

Among various stops we made around the prison was Angola’s museum, located just inside the prison gate. A wall of weapons confiscated from inmates and movie posters from movies filmed at the infamous prison sat inside wooden cases that bore small paper plaques with names and correctional numbers, indicating that the cases were hand-crafted by prisoners. In retrospect it seems interesting that I spent my first few hours in Angola without seeing a single person who was incarcerated, except of course the people that served us lunch.

We met with re-entry participants and mentors in the auto body repair shop, and they explained both the technical aspects of the re-entry programs and how they felt about it. The courts identify a non-violent repeat offender for the program, and the prison pairs this short-term inmate with a lifer with the skills and interest in teaching someone a trade and providing them with life skills counseling. The student we spoke with talked about all the different certifications he was getting, and how busy the program kept him throughout the day and night. The mentor talked about the progress the student was making and the skills he was learning, and how he felt like he was increasing public safety by taking part in this rehabilitation behind bars. Elsewhere in the shop, other pairs of mentors and students worked on cars. There were correctional officers passing through from time to time, but otherwise, it looked like the inside of any vocational school. From my limited vantage point of the auto body shop, both the mentor and the student seemed grateful for the purpose that the re-entry activities provided them. The sheer presence of something productive to do in prison, the opportunity to get your GED to create something, must be a relief.

But there are unsettling questions lying under the positive reports of the student-mentor team, and they were best articulated by another woman on the bus. “This is depressing,” she said. I wasn’t sure how to answer her initially because I wasn’t sure what aspect of being inside the U.S.’s largest prison she specifically found depressing. “It’s a shame that all of the skills that these guys have are going to waste in here,” she explained, “who knows if they are going to be able to use them when they get out.”

On our way back to the front gates, members of the tour group asked questions about Angola. Where did the money from the Angola Rodeo go? Where does the money from the sales of all the prison produced goods go? The production of goods in the prison is, evidently, a concern of Prison Enterprises, a company that resides on Angola’s grounds, but is separate from the prison. The museum, too, while directly feeding off the infamy Angola, is completely separate. I think there is a problem with separating out these operations, which all occur within the same 18,000 acres, behind the same gates. I even think there is a problem with separating the mentorship situation that is occurring within Angola from the economic situation that awaits the incarcerated people who make it through the program. The fact that these students are gaining skills and purpose behind bars can’t be separated from the depression of their lost potential, from the difficulty of acquiring compensation for those skills on the outside.

Danielle Unger is from Charlottesville, VA and attended Vassar College. As a New Orleans AVODAH Corps member, she is the Program Communications Fellow at Voice Of The Ex-Offenders, a grassroots, membership based organization founded and run by formerly incarcerated persons in partnership to end the disenfranchisement and discrimination against formerly incarcerated people and improve New Orleans public safety and the criminal justice system.

Drum roll please! Asset poverty. (Gasp!) Three and a half months ago, I could have dissected these words and told you what each one meant individually because as a linguist, that is what I was trained to do. Knowing myself, I would have looked each word up in a dictionary (or on dictionary.com) and produced a dry, unemotionally affected definition that sounded something like this: “insufficiency” of “a useful and desirable thing of value.” That pretty much sounds like I am describing poverty in general. So what is asset poverty? What makes it so hard to cope with? Why should we care?

First off, an asset is anything of value that you own. This can be a savings account, a car, a house, money in the stock market, or even a college education. Asset poverty is a dearth of assets. It means that in the unexpected event that the primary income earner of a household loses their income, that household would be unable to support itself for three months or less. In Illinois there is a 1 in 3 chance that a family is asset poor. With both the unemployment rate and length of time it takes people to find a job rising, lack of assets is a tough reality for many Illinoisans. Often times, people who have few or no assets also have debt to repay and families to support. The truth is, there’s no quick fix to running out of money.

A large portion of my job at Heartland Alliance is devoted to being a case manager for twenty-two participants and leading groups on financial education. My ultimate goal is to try to increase my participants’ knowledge and skills relating to savings and money management so that in the event that their financial situation changes, they will be more prepared. Given the high frequency at which asset poverty occurs in Illinois, even what I am doing is not enough; the number of people in poverty just keeps growing. The 2011 Report on Illinois Poverty issued by Heartland Alliance’s Social IMPACT Research Center this December, clearly shows that my job won’t be getting easier, and my participant base may very well increase.

Since I started working in asset building, I not only know how to define asset poverty, but I grapple to understand it every day with my participants. All I can do share the resources that I have with my participants and work with them to achieve better understanding of personal finances. I can only hope to help my participants set up some kind of safety net that can help them to stay afloat in tough economic times. This isn’t something that will happen instantly, but hopefully, throughout the rest of my year, my knowledge base and resources will grow so that I can do my part to fight asset poverty in the greater Chicago area. As it says in Perkei Avot, “It is not incumbent on you to finish the work, neither are you free to neglect it.”

Abby Citrin is from Rye Brook, NY and attended Macalester College. She is an Asset Building Program Aide at Heartland Alliance, which helps people living in poverty or danger improve their lives and realize their human rights.

As a first-year student at my small liberal arts college, I participated in Lives of Commitment, a program designed to help first-years bridge the gap between civic engagement and academics. The program encouraged participants to think about how their civic engagement work related to not only their academic pursuits, but their personal ethics and values as well. The program application asked for an example of a person who you, the applicant, thought exemplified what it means to live a life of commitment. At the time, I was unfamiliar with the phrase ‘life of commitment.’  The question, and my eventual involvement in the program, forced me to reflect on the difference between a life of commitment and a commitment to social justice.

I spent the next four years involved in Lives of Commitment and other programs like it, beginning to discern my own vocational path and coming to my own understanding of what it means to live a life of commitment. When I write about a life of commitment today, I write about a life in which the values that call a person to social justice work are integrated as much as possible into their lives outside of work. Living a life of commitment means that big decisions and choices are made based on the values you hold dear. The decision to buy only local food or to send your children to inner-city public schools or not to purchase a car are all examples of choices people close to me have made in order to live a life of commitment.

In many ways, AVODAH encourages Corps members to discern what it means to live a Jewish life of commitment. Recent decisions and dialogue within the greater AVODAH community surrounding a 10-day “service-learning” trip to Israel with the American Jewish World Service through Pursue: Action for a Just World prompted me to reflect further on the direct realities of living a life of commitment. The decision to sponsor this trip resulted in the resignation of Chicago Program Director Michael Deheeger. Michael’s decision, as well as the trip itself, has prompted discussion from across the AVODAH and Jewish communities.

Michael’s decision exemplifies one of the challenges of living a life of commitment. In a letter about his resignation, Michael wrote: “We in the Jewish social justice community have a choice. On the one hand, we can stay silent and try to avoid provoking the ire of powerful donors … On the other hand, we can publicly oppose, or at least not cover up, the oppression Israel commits directly in our name.”

Michael’s decision has direct implications for the current AVODAH Chicago Corps members. In the past few months, Michael has been a strong role model, helping us shape our fledgling community of 14 young Jewish individuals, all exploring what living a life of commitment means to each of us. Michael has provided incredible energy and support for us as individuals and a community. He has facilitated thoughtful and engaging programs and helped us negotiate tough decisions. While Michael’s departure will create a void for the Chicago bayit (house) and the greater AVODAH community, his decision provides us with a remarkable demonstration of commitment. Living a life of commitment means making active and bold life choices. In his letter, Michael writes that the Pursue trip “communicates a public message … It therefore requires a public response.” A public response can be a painful response, but it also illustrates that the choices we make for our own lives have the power to influence others. Leading a life of commitment means making life choices consistent with our commitments to personal values and ethics. These choices are not easy and they can be painful, but commitment isn’t always a smooth journey. Perhaps it is in these difficult moments when our commitments are tested and the direction of our paths are charted.

Lily Gordon-Koven is from Newton, MA and attended Macalester College. She works as a Housing Resource Specialist at Heartland Alliance, which helps people living in poverty or danger improve their lives and realize their human rights.

I chose Judaism in college—driven by my strong connection to the ideas of tikkun olam and community. AVODAH is in some ways the manifestation of these two values, and my placement at Survivors and Advocates for Empowerment (D.C. SAFE) has revealed to me the complexities of social justice work.

The foremost lesson I’ve learned is that applying band-aids to immediate problems, rather than addressing the underlying issues, is exhausting. In my placement, where I provide vital safety resources and legal guidance, I have realized just how many health barriers inner-city women experience, including impediments to escaping abusive relationships, to gaining financial independence, and to accessing care for physical and emotional illnesses. Having come to see the need to address the underlying circumstances—such as the causes and effects of poverty—I now aspire to move beyond such one-on-one work to learn how to shape policies that empower women in their relationships and health.

But AVODAH has allowed me to see what a gift it is to be able to commit ones life to one-on-one work with impoverished or tragedy-stricken persons. I concede that client work is essential to real change, even if I can’t handle it personally for an entire career. Indeed, my placement and those of my fellow Corps members have helped me to see how much the world of social justice relies on direct service work.

One of the calls I received on the domestic abuse response line at D.C. SAFE demonstrates the difficulty—and necessity—of providing emergency services for disempowered individuals. A hospital social worker called on behalf of a homeless woman, and the woman had been evicted from her home by an abusive boyfriend a few months before. The survivor had wanted refuge from the frosty park bench that was her temporary home, and had been invited in by two strangers, a father and son, to warm up and eat dinner. Later that night the men gang-raped her in their apartment and stabbed her several times, once near the heart.

My original priority had been to find the survivor emergency housing. But following deeper discussions with the client and the hospital social worker, I discovered an underlying history of substance abuse that quickly became a more consequential focus. I hoped that I could get my client into a specific D.C. program that would treat her alcoholism in a comprehensive and long-lasting fashion while also housing her for 28 days without charge. With such targeted institutional support, the client might have the ability to heal from the trauma, homelessness, and addiction that plagued her since the domestic abuse she suffered earlier that year.

I view the experience of working with individuals as conceptually analogous to finding immediate shelter for the survivor that night. Housing for the woman was essential, but since she had no cell phone, I had little expectation that I would be able to help connect her, as we did with other clients, with resources over the following months. My AVODAH placement has showed me how frequent these situations are; and now, inspired by the realities of the world, I want to work to mitigate the underlying circumstances of her entire predicament through crafting better health policies and funding programs supportive of women’s ongoing needs.

Indeed, AVODAH has inspired me to work towards devising or advocating preventive measures for many, rather than limiting myself to responding to the immediate crises of a few. But I don’t think I’m weak for finding my work at D.C. SAFE unbearably difficult. Rather, I have learned just how strong some social workers, counselors, and social justice activists are. Furthermore, I know know how to utilize my strengths while supporting this vital part of the field—likely through policy work to increase funding and inter-agency cooperation.

AVODAH has also helped me to understand just how important a Jewish community is to me. My synagogue and my adopted Jewish family back in Palo Alto helped me through my honors thesis, my transition into the Jewish world, and perhaps the hardest part—my transition away from college into the real world. But now that I’m living in a house with nine other wonderful, dedicated, loving Corps members, I know even more about how invigorating and sustaining a Jewish community can be. Without my housemates to talk to each night, I’m not sure I could perform the emotionally taxing tasks at D.C. SAFE.

With my community’s support, as well as skills and knowledge obtained from my work at AVODAH, I hope to eventually direct my passion toward policies with the promise of advancing the health of impoverished women around the country.

Katherine's AVODAH Community

Katherin Heflin is from Silver Lake, KS and attended Stanford University. She is a Lethality Assessment Project Advocate at DC SAFE, Inc., which works to ensure the safety and self-determination of domestic violence survivors in Washington, DC through emergency services, court advocacy, and system reform.

There is a good chance that you’ve heard of my placement, or at least a branch of it. I work at the DC Jewish Community Center, one of the only JCC agencies with a dedicated community services department. In coordinating the Behrend Builders program, I orchestrate projects that bring in skilled and unskilled volunteers to repair, renovate, and rebuild in the greater DC area.  This includes painting, sheetrocking, minor rehab and beautification work, occasional carpentry, gardening and environmental work, and even small animal control. Indeed, I have a unique placement.

The community services department also organizes large-scale projects, such as Everything But The Turkey (the week of Thanksgiving), December 25th Day of Service, Martin Luther King Jr. Day of Service, and Earth Day. On November 21st and 23rd, DCJCC volunteers prepared over 11,000 servings of food. All the food was donated to DC Central Kitchen, which served it along with turkeys to over 90 shelters and transitional homes throughout DC. This December 25th, over 1,000 volunteers will work at over 50 social service centers throughout DC. Volunteers will throw parties for seniors and children in need, prepare and serve food, or paint community spaces and shelters. I will oversee over 200 volunteers at the Community for Creative Non-Violence – DC’s largest homeless shelter and one of the largest in the country.

Social justice work to me is something dynamic and multifaceted.  It can incorporate advocacy, fundraising, organizing, education and awareness, and community service. Community service work can be incredibly relevant and impactful because it is so direct, interactive, immediate, and tangible. At its best, community service work is people helping people and, in the process, helping themselves. Volunteers can enhance a community or spread some holiday cheer while also developing a skill set, discovering new talents, and meeting new people.

Equally impressive is the impact that our work has on those in need. From my experience in DC, the recipients of our volunteer work are so gracious and our volunteers are so well received. Between the hugs and the blessings, volunteering really does make you feel good inside because you have uplifted the spirit of somebody in need.

My first memories in my Jewish community back home are from organizing and delivering food boxes during Passover. I remember walking into one lady’s home and being received with such warmth, gratefulness, and sincerity. This simple act of spreading holiday cheer impressed upon me a spirit of community service and social justice that continues today.

In programming this year, I’ve thought about the impact and possible spark that a service project may have on an individual. Whether it is 5 days or 5 years later, service work can often serve as an inspirational bridge to greater social justice work. It can put a face to homelessness, hunger, or other social issues. And working at a Jewish agency, it serves as a reminder, a reason, and a call to action to a lifetime of tikkun olam.

Daniel Obeler is from Buffalo Grove, IL and attended University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. He is the Behrend Builders and Community Service Coordinator at the Washington, DC Jewish Community Center.

People often ask me what characterizes AVODAH’s ideal applicants. Who are they? What activities are they involved in? What type of professional experience do they have? Truthfully, there’s no one answer to any of these questions. Corps members come to AVODAH with a variety of different life experiences, values, passions, and levels of religious involvement.

Still, I thought it would be useful to list a few tips that might help when filling out your application:

1. Write about your experience with social justice activities – AVODAH is looking for Corps members who are passionate people, and we want to know what lights your fire! Are you in charge of organizing soup kitchen visits at your college? Do you lobby your representatives for more dollars for social services? Do you love to bake challah and sell it to raise money for hunger and disaster relief? Whatever you do, make sure to tell us! With AVODAH, you’ll explore various aspects of social justice and Judaism, and we want you to bring your own unique perspective to the conversation.
2. Show us that you can work well as part of a group – As part of AVODAH, you’ll be building a pluralistic, Jewish community with anywhere from seven to seventeen other housemates! It is sometimes a struggle to negotiate your needs, and the needs of others at the same time. Who’s turn is it to clean the bathroom? How do we decide what to make for dinner tonight? Make sure to share with us experiences that you’ve had building community, so that we know you’re up to the challenge.
3. Tell us about your interest in Jewish pluralism – AVODAH’s Corps members have a diverse set of ideals, beliefs, and religious customs. Are you eager to explore different types of Jewish practices? Would you want to teach your fellow Corps members about your unique Jewish experiences? We want you to share your knowledge and curiosity with us.
4. Highlight your leadership experiences – Your year with AVODAH will include taking on leadership roles: at work, in the bayit (your AVODAH house), and during educational programs. We’re interested in learning about you, so tell us how you have stepped up to the plate as a leader before, or how you’re excited to build your leadership skills with us.
5. Proofread – It may seem obvious, but before you submit your application and resume, print them out, and read them aloud to yourself. Does it all make sense? Great! Did you catch a few typos? Fix ‘em. Put the time in to make sure your application is sparkling!
6. Make sure your references are acceptable, and submitted on time - AVODAH requires three completed reference forms. In order to send those forms to your references, start your application, enter in your references names and e-mails, and click submit! AVODAH will send forms to your references and notify you when each is completed. Remember that AVODAH doesn’t accept academic references (like professors or academic advisers), unless they’ve supervised you in a professional setting. Ask for references from people who have supervised you in a work or volunteer environment, and make sure they know to submit their forms by our first deadline, January 29, 2012.

Haven’t started your application yet? Interested in learning more about AVODAH? Visit our website to read up on AVODAH and start applying today!

Mollie Spevack is from Smithtown, NY and was an AVODAH Corps member in New York in 2008-2009. She now works for AVODAH as the Recruitment and Communications Coordinator, while pursuing a master’s degree in Non-Profit Management and Leadership at The Hebrew University.