The first time I walked into a juggling convention, I knew I had found my people. The room was alive with movement—balls, clubs, and rings flying through the air—but even more importantly, there was a spirit of openness and connection.
The crowd was wildly diverse. There were seasoned pros who could juggle seven balls with their eyes closed, beginners proudly working on their first cascade, and everyone in between. Some were circus performers, others were hobbyists, and some were just there for the sheer joy of throwing things in the air. Everyone was weird in their own way—but that was exactly what made it feel like home.
And despite all our differences, we shared a common culture.
And every juggling convention I’ve been to since has been exactly the same.
It took me a while to realize why juggling spaces felt so familiar to me—they reminded me of Jewish community. Like juggling, Judaism brings together people from all different backgrounds, levels of experience, and personal styles. Some people have been studying Torah their whole lives, while others are just beginning. Some express their Judaism through study, some through ritual, some through activism, and some through song and dance. Some juggle torches on a rola bola while explaining the Talmud. (Okay, maybe that one’s just me.) And yet, despite all those differences, we share common values:
-Just as an expert juggler will teach a beginner, Jewish tradition is built on the idea of passing knowledge from person to person. Everyone has something to learn, and everyone has something to teach.
-Encouragement in the face of failure. Judaism understands that growth comes from trying, failing, and trying again. In juggling, we say, “You’ll never get better if you’re afraid to drop.” In Judaism, we say, “Seven times the righteous fall and rise again” (Proverbs 24:16).
-A sense of belonging. Judaism teaches that every person is created b’tzelem Elohim (in the image of God). No matter how you practice, no matter what level you’re at, you are part of something bigger.
We Need All Kinds of People
In juggling, no two people have exactly the same skills. Some are brilliant with clubs, others master rings, and some can balance on a unicycle while juggling flaming torches. If you’re putting on a show, or even just learning together, you need all kinds of jugglers to make it work. It’s the same in Jewish community. We need all kinds of people. That’s why our tradition emphasizes diversity—not just accepting it, but celebrating it. On Passover, we tell the story of the Four Children—the wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who doesn’t know how to ask. Each child approaches Judaism in a different way, but they all have a seat at the Seder table. We need them all. On Sukkot, we wave the Four Species—the etrog, lulav, hadas, and aravah—symbolizing different kinds of people, each with their own strengths. A community isn’t complete unless all are included, just as a juggling act isn’t complete with only one prop.
When you’re working on a project together—whether it’s learning to juggle, building a sukkah, or creating a vibrant Jewish community—you need all kinds of people. Some are visionaries, some are problem-solvers, some are hands-on builders, and some are the ones who remind you to take a break and enjoy the process. The magic happens when everyone brings their unique skills, quirks, and talents into the mix.
We Need Each Other to Keep the Pattern Going
One of the most beautiful forms of juggling is passing—where two or more jugglers stand together, tossing clubs back and forth in a synchronized pattern. No one person controls the whole thing. Instead, it’s a shared rhythm, a dance of trust and cooperation.
Jewish community works the same way. It’s not a solo act—it’s a shared tradition that only exists because we pass it to one another. We rely on each other to keep the pattern going. We teach each other, we lift each other up, and we make room for new people to step in and find their place.
Whether in a juggling hall or a synagogue, the message is the same: Everyone belongs. Everyone has something to give. And together, we create something greater than we ever could alone.
So whether you’re picking up your first set of juggling balls or opening your first siddur, know this—you’re part of the circle. And if you drop? Don’t worry. Someone will always be there to toss the ball back to you.
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