Helpful Articles about Current Events in Israel

For My Children & The Children of Gaza: A View from the Israeli Border

An Open Letter to Trevor Noah

The Bad Optics of Fighting for Your Life

When Hamas is not our Biggest Problem

I Cannot Just Put my Anger Aside Until Things are Quiet

For Trump, Hamas, and Bibi, It Is Always Jan 6

I'm Fed Up

Now, when rockets are falling, is exactly the right time to talk about building a better future for Israelis and Palestinians

"Our stories are intertwined, our futures inextricably linked. Neither of us can possibly win until we find a way for all of us to win."

Why Israel Lost This War

"As criticism of the war shifts to a foundational critique of Israel itself, Israel can't afford to not make its case. This it can do ​only by reclaiming the moral high ground."

Israel's Real Existential Threat

Trying to Be an Optimist in Bad Times

We Hold All These Truths

How an American Left Lens Can Get Israel Wrong

"At the end of the day, when all is said and done, this is a painful and enduring conflict between two indigenous people struggling to share one homeland. They do not map onto American and Western narratives of racism, colonialism and whiteness.

Regardless of our politics, we must agree that these two people desperately need to achieve a peaceful coexistence. For those who care about human dignity, about peace, and about truth, there is a role for us to play in supporting those who actually live here and are working to build a better future for both people."

Israel's Problems Are Not Like America's

Hamas's Forever War Against Israel has a Glitch and It Isn't the Iron Dome

How the Mideast Conflict is Blowing up the Region, the Democratic Party, and Every Synagogue in America

What I Learned about Tefillah Education During a Pandemic

In the last year, Jewish educators have worked hard to transform Jewish learning into something manageable and soul-lifting in these uncertain and challenging times.  We have tried to look for ways to adapt in-person learning to online learning, to engage students, and to develop meaningful relationships.  I am by nature an optimist, and I try to find the good in people and situations.  I’m a big believer in silver linings, and we have definitely discovered some “covid keepers” - changes from this year that we’ll keep even when the pandemic is over.  

But during the pandemic I have also learned something critical: there is absolutely no substitute for in-person tefillah (prayer), especially for kids who are learning how to pray.  

Praying is hard.  Learning to pray is hard.  It’s even harder when it’s in a foreign language (Hebrew) and has set prayers to learn (liturgy).  But learning to pray is not only possible, but can be an exciting part of Jewish education in “normal” times. There is something almost-magical that happens when you’re in a room full of children praying - you hear their voices soar, and you can feel their spirits lift.  As a prayer leader, you know when they are singing along, and you know when you’ve lost them.  You can pivot in the moment because you are getting feedback about the experience - do they need me to slow down? Speed up? Change the melody?  Prayer is a dance, a give-and-take between us and God, and between the shaliach tzibbur (prayer leader) and the pray-ers.  

But so much of that is lost - or impossible - online.

It is hard to pray when you can only hear your own voice.  You feel awkward, self-conscious.  If you don’t know the words that well, it’s uncomfortable to hear yourself mumble along.  When we pray together in person, your voice is subsumed among other voices, and it’s more comfortable to join in, even if you don’t know the prayers very well. You can sing along to a few syllables here and there, eventually more words, and eventually all of it.  You look up to students who are older, who know the words better, who know what to do.  You hear the sounds of people all around you - younger and older, kids and teachers, different voices, different styles.  You can find your place in the sound.  But none of that can happen online.

And so we do our best with tefillah-on-zoom.  We have done our best for a year.  But when this pandemic is over, and we can get back to in-person tefillah (whether outdoors or indoors), we can get back to tefillah education in the way it’s meant to be done - in a group, with people all around you, filling up your spirit, and hearing your voice join others in prayer.

Singing Hashkiveinu with arms around each other

Masks, Zoom Boxes, and What we Reveal about Ourselves: Parashat Vayigash

 It’s 2020 and you want to see someone important in your life, someone whom you do not live with.  Maybe it’s your friend.  Or your child.  Your grandchild.  Your sibling.   If they live far away, there is really only one option - you can see them on a computer.  Okay, so, you do have some choices - do you want to Zoom? Or use Skype? Or FaceTime? Google hangouts?  Whichever platform you choose, you’re going to end up looking at your loved one through a box on a screen.

Let’s say that person lives nearby and it’s during the months when we were not under a complete stay-at-home order.  You decide you want to see them.  How do you do it?  Hopefully, if following safety protocols, you’ll see them outside, distanced, and masked.  

MASKED?  Let’s stop for a minute to think about that word and what it means.  Pre-covid, we used the word “masked” to refer to someone who wants to hide their identity.  To obscure who they are. They literally or metaphorically ‘mask’ themselves.  

And now, we all have masks.  We are all literally wearing masks.  Let's see them!  Go get your mask and put it on for a minute.  

(wait while people get their masks, put them on)

Take a minute and look through all the zoom boxes.  Try to see which faces you recognize and which ones you don’t.  It’s not really fair since we have our names visible on zoom, but if we got rid of all the names, which faces would you recognize?  And which ones would you not know, because they are masked?

Leave them on for a moment.  In this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash, Joseph reveals himself to his brothers.  It’s a dramatic scene (read Gen 45:1-15).

Joseph was not wearing a literal mask, but he was “masked,” metaphorically.  He had assumed an Egyptian identity - Egyptian clothes, hairstyle, even language - so they did not recognize him.  Until he unmasked himself.  He sent the translator out of the room, presumably switching back into his native language of Hebrew.  He tells his brothers who he really is.  He takes off his “mask.”  And everyone weeps.

This is the last Shabbat of 2020, the year of being masked.  So what will happen when, someday, we unmask?  What will be revealed?

Take one last look at everyone in masks.  Now, everyone, take off your masks.  

I’ve heard of someone who prefers to use the word “face covering” to “mask”, because when we cover our faces for safety during this Covid-era, our intention is not to “mask” our identity.  Our intention is just to cover our face to stay safe.  But in covering our faces - with face coverings - we do inadvertently “mask ourselves” sometimes.  It is harder to tell who someone is when they’re wearing a mask.  It is harder to read emotion when we can’t see the lower half of someone’s face.  Yes, we can see the “smize” - the smile with one’s eyes - but still - it’s much harder to have a sense of another person’s feelings while they are covering their face.

The challenges of what’s hidden and what’s revealed are not only related to wearing face coverings, but it’s also an issue on zoom.  We know which parts of our space will be seen on screen, so we make decisions about what will show and what won’t.  We’ve all probably seen pictures like this

https://www.pocket-lint.com/apps/news/153915-funny-real-life-behind-the-scenes-views-from-zoom-meetings

It’s not only a mess on the floor that we might be trying to hide.  We try to project a certain vision of ourselves, curated just so.  It’s not only on zoom.  It’s on Facebook, on phone calls, and more.  We decide what we want to reveal about ourselves.

But what about the mess?  What about the messy side of life, that we ALL have?  Where do reveal that? To whom?  When do we let down our guard to show one another who we really are?  Even all the unpleasant parts?

This year with Covid has been exhausting, isolating, and challenging on many levels.  But one of the challenges has been figuring out how to relate to one another through face coverings, through zoom, through phone calls, and without regular in-person interactions.  What is lost when all we have is a partial face?  Or a full face but contained in a box on screen?

Let us learn from Joseph that there is power in revealing ourselves, even when it makes us weep. 

This week, on this last Shabbat of 2020, let us commit to revealing more of ourselves in 2021.  Let us share our aches.  Share our pains.  Share our feelings.  Let us open up emotionally, even if we have to do it while in a zoom box or while wearing face coverings.  Even if ‘hiding’ things on our screen is so easy.  May we reach out to one another in full humanity.  Let the tears flow, as someday, we WILL come back together… God-willing, sometime in 2021, fully vaccinated, and in full health.

And let us say, AMEN!

*this drash was delivered for Temple Isaiah on 12/25/20

Preparing for Religious School in a Pandemic: An Insider's Look

Week after week, those of us who run part-time Jewish education programs have been working hard to figure out what to do this year, and how to make our programs as high-quality as possible, given the circumstances. So what’s it really like to prepare for JQuest (religious school) during a global pandemic?

We began our planning process by hiring our JQuest teachers in late spring to write curricula for the coming year, with three types of learning for each lesson plan / unit:

1) in-person learning
2) at-home learning, synchronous (i.e. “live” on zoom or some other similar platform)
3) at-home learning, asynchronous (i.e. activities students/ families can do at home on their own, not with a “live” teacher)

We also paid teachers for professional development, and we are spending time this summer trying to improve our ability to create the highest-quality, relationship-based online learning that we can.

We are already set up at JQuest with a track system, whereby students choose which learning track they want, so my intention for the fall is that parents/students will be able to select an in-person (outdoor) JQuest track or an at-home JQuest track. The tricky question is how to create those tracks. Here are some of the things I’ve been working on / considering:

1. Enrollment: How many students can we expect? Usually, we have a pretty good idea of how many students to expect in the coming year. We start registration in April, and by June, we have about 90% of our expected enrollment (with the rest trickling in throughout the summer, including families who move to the area and/or decide to join a synagogue as the High Holy Days approach). This year, we started registration in May, and our enrollment has been trickling in since then. Over the course of a couple weeks in July, the Assistant Director and I reached out to all the families who are unenrolled in JQuest '20-'21, but were part of JQuest in '19-'20, to ask about their plans. Here are some of the things we heard:

“If it’s going to be on Zoom, we’re not doing it.” 

“If it’s going to be in person, we’re not doing it.” 

“We’re going to take a year off.” 

“I’m overwhelmed and can’t think about JQuest right now.” 

As you can imagine, we are trying to make decisions about classes and hiring teachers, but our enrollment is very uncertain. Even those who have signed up know they can pull out (and get a full refund) if they’re unhappy with the choices we offer.

2. Teachers: What do teachers want? In addition to 1-1 conversations with teachers, we conducted a survey of teachers to understand their desires and needs. Given the current circumstances and their own individual considerations, do they prefer to teach in person? Online? What days/times could they teach in the coming year, if we need to think outside the usual JQuest schedule?

3. Space and Schedule: If we offer in-person learning, we want to keep group sizes small (10-12 students at most), and the groups outside as much as possible. We are brainstorming how to do that, logistically-speaking. What time will each group meet? Where on our campus can we set up outdoor classrooms? Can we use other off-campus outdoor spaces for our programming? For online learning programs, what times should we offer? How long is a reasonable length of time to expect students to participate in an online class (especially if they’re doing all their secular school classes online as well)? We want to keep the online groups relatively small, too, as it’s easier to engage when there are a smaller number of students in an online class.

4. What should we do about tefillah? Even if we offer in-person classes, we know we cannot do tefillah (communal prayer) in person, due to the risks of transmitting COVID-19 through singing. So when and how will we do tefillah this year? How will the (online) tefillah schedule fit in with the schedule of all the classes?

5. The chicken-and-egg dilemma: How many in-person and how many online classes should we offer? Which days/times? How many teachers do we need, and for how many hours? Our enrollment is uncertain, and parents do not want to sign up until they know what they’re signing up for. But we don’t know which / how many classes to offer, because we don’t know how many students to expect. At some point, we will just make a decision, put the options out there, and see what happens.

6. Flexibility is key: Even though we are planning for in-person JQuest options along with online options, we know that we might not be able to operate in person when we start in early October - whether due to county/state regulations, health & safety considerations by our synagogue leadership, or a whole host of other reasons. In that case, we may have to pivot to online learning for all students, which may mean a drop in enrollment. On the other hand, something may change that would allow us to pivot to a more regular in-person JQuest program (a COVID-19 vaccine, of course! Or an effective COVID-19 treatment, or fast/easy/cheap COVID-19 testing, or who knows what else). The future is uncertain, and we have to be nimble enough to make changes quickly and smoothly, at any point in the school year.

***

It is not easy being an educator at this time. It is not easy being a parent, either. We all need something stable to count on during these uncertain times, and even though it’s hard, I’m grateful to be a Jewish educator because Jewish education can be the pillar of strength we all need. Jewish learning and Jewish community have sustained the Jewish people for thousands of years - including through wars, pogroms, and pandemics. By connecting with each other, as well as with the holidays, themes, and texts of our tradition, we learn resilience, courage, strength, and patience. The deep well of wisdom in Judaism is especially meaningful when we face turbulence in our lives and in the world around us.

It may be complicated putting the pieces together, but I am committed to creating a Jewish education program that will be a wonderful year of creative learning and community-building, with extraordinary teachers and meaningful friendships. May we go from strength to strength!

What to do about schools: An Elu v'Elu Perspective

Elu v’Elu

In this intense and emotional time, an image is making its way around the internet, with a variety of feelings / perspectives on the question of whether and how schools should open for the 2020-2021 school year:

In Judaism, we have a concept for this, called “Elu v’elu,” which literally means “these and these” and is described as follows by the Lippman Kanfer Foundation for Living Torah:

In the 1st century B. C. E. there were two great Schools of Jewish thought: the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai. They often disagreed. Shammai’s School liked to regulate, circumscribe, define.  Hillel’s kept things more open, favoring flexibility and inclusivity.  One time, as told in the Talmud’s tractate Eruvin, the Rabbis debated endlessly and could not decide which opinion to follow, since both sides had valid arguments. Finally a voice came from Heaven, saying ‘both these and those – elu v’elu – are the words of the living God.’

As Jews, we maintain it is possible to hold multiple truths, and we celebrate having a BOTH/AND perspective.  It is possible that multiple – even conflicting – viewpoints can be correct and contain seeds of holiness.  In the great debate about schools, we must keep this in mind and not succumb to an EITHER/OR or US/THEM mentality.  Our President has tried to politicize the question of whether and how to open schools, but this is not a straightforward either/or situation.  It is not a question of whether schools should open at all, or whether schools should open in person or not.  This is an Elu v’Elu situation.  There are multiple, conflicting truths.  We must yield a both/and perspective. Elu v’elu.

Others have articulated these viewpoints ad nauseum, but since so many of my Facebook friends are teachers (of all kinds) and/or parents (of all kinds), I thought I’d share my personal Elu v’elu perspective:

It is better for students to learn in person

While online / at-home learning is possible, I would argue that in-person learning is a preferable way to do education, particularly for social-emotional learning and growth, and for building relationships.

There are those for whom attending school in person may not work

This includes families with adults and/or children who are immunocompromised, and/or those who do not feel comfortable sending their children to school in person during the pandemic (for any reason).

There are those for whom attending school in person is critical

This includes families whose adult(s) cannot work from home, who do not have sufficient technology to do at-home schooling, who rely on school for essential childcare, students with special needs, where there is abuse in the home, and all those who are eager to send their children to school during the pandemic (for any reason). School /childcare is an “essential service” and should be thought of that way.

In making school plans, we must consider the health, safety, and well-being of teachers and all school staff/administration, as well as the health, safety, and well-being of children and their parents.

This is crucial.

Children do not seem to be spreaders / super-spreaders of COVID-19

While more research needs to be conducted and we cannot yet know for sure, so far the academic studies I’ve read on this question have all reached the conclusion that children are very rarely spreaders (and certainly not super-spreaders) of COVID-19.  This includes studies from around the world, particularly focused on preschool and elementary-school children, including an (unscientific) study of children in “essential childcare” during the initial shelter-in-place orders. More specifically, early research seems to show that the spread of COVID-19 is rare from child-to-child or child-to-adult.  Contact tracing has shown that children who have tested positive for COVID-19 almost always contracted it from an adult, and the vast majority of children contracted it from an adult in their own household (and did not pass it on to others in their school /childcare setting). 

We must try to give families and teachers options.

Some families are desperate for schools to open.  Others cannot imagine sending their children to school.  Some teachers want to teach in person.  Some teachers do not want (or cannot) teach in person. If at all possible, I think the best solution is to offer several options, as, for example, the Dublin school district has set out to do.   In addition to installing cameras in classrooms so that students can view the in-person learning, I’d recommend schools set up online-only classes in which teachers who cannot (or do not want) to teach in person teach those online classes.  This may not work very well (or at all) for preschool or Grades K-2, but it’s certainly an option for grades 3-8, and we can think creatively about offering some form of at-home learning for those younger children, led by teachers who cannot or do not want to teach in person.

We must respect the choices that parents, teachers, and school administrators make.

If we do offer choices, we must then remember the “elu v’elu” perspective in honoring the different choices people make.  These are very hard choices, and each person has many factors to consider in making personal choices.  You are not a bad person if you choose to send your children to school.  You are not a bad person if you choose to keep your kids home and do school-from-home.  You are not a bad person if you are a teacher and teach in person.  You are not a bad person if you are a teacher and make the decision not to teach this year, or not to teach in person.  School administrators have heart-breakingly hard decisions to make, and each school and each community has different factors to consider.  Directors and administrators are doing their best in an unbelievably challenging time, and we should do our best not to demonize them but to support and work with them to make these difficult choices and plans.

The logistics are complicated, especially for larger schools

I recognize a choice-option is complicated and would be easier in smaller schools.  That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. 

This all costs money and we have to explore all possible funding sources. 

I don’t know what those funding sources are – governmental, private foundations, individual philanthropists – but the optimist in me says that if there’s a will, there’s a way.  In my ideal world, funding for the “choice” option would not happen locally (school to school), but more broadly (perhaps state by state or city by city) so that funds could be raised for ALL schools and not just those in wealthier areas/communities. This may be a pipedream, but if we don’t put options out there, we’ll never make any forward progress.  And we need leadership for this.  Who will be the leaders for this work?  Is it you? 

Education (and childcare) is an essential service

Even if we move to a full shut-down / shelter-in-place again, I would advocate for in-person schools / childcare to remain open as an option for those who choose (or need) it, with teachers/staff who feel comfortable continuing in person (as with other essential workers like grocery store employees, health care workers, etc.).  This is especially true for preschools and elementary schools (perhaps middle schools, too). Online / at-home learning could be expanded for those who – at that point – choose to or need to stop attending in person.

Difficult does not mean impossible

All of this is incredibly complicated.  As someone who runs an education program for 375 students, I understand well the logistical nightmare of the current moment.  And yet, we cannot give up, or give up hope.  It is not helpful to reduce this dilemma to an either/or conversation, or demonize those with different perspectives than we have. 

Elu v’Elu -> Lech L’cha

We can approach this conversation with the Jewish concept of Elu v’elu – these and these are the living words of God.  We can honor different viewpoints, and take all those viewpoints into account in this thorny conversation.

And yet, at some point, we will have to move forward and make decisions.  There is another Jewish concept that can help us here.  In the Torah, God tells Abraham “Lech L’cha!”  “Go!” “Go to a land that I will show you” (i.e. go on a journey to a place you do not yet know, a journey without a clearly-defined destination). Sometimes we have to be like Abraham, we have to just “go forth” and give something a try, even if the journey is to an “unknown land." 

And as we make our way forward, we can hold hands (metaphorically!), honor different viewpoints, and support one another along the difficult path ahead.

Musings on Coronavirus from the Torah and Talmud

Could it have been timed more perfectly?

At the start of this week's Torah portion, Ki Tisa, we read: "The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying: 'Make a laver of copper and a stand of copper for it, for washing; and place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar. Put water in it, and let Aaron and his sons wash their hands and feet [in water drawn] from it. When they enter the Tent of Meeting they shall wash with water, that they may not die; or when they approach the altar to serve, to turn into smoke an offering by fire to the Eternal, they shall wash their hands and feet, that they may not die. It shall be a law for all time for them - for him and his offspring - throughout the ages.'" (Ex 30:17-21)

To situate this text, I'll note that the Torah gives instructions to the Israelites to build the mishkan (tabernacle)... a portable structure that served as the place of worship for the Israelites when they were journeying through the desert.  The priests were instructed to offer sacrifices in the mishkan, and in this week's Torah portion, we learn that they are supposed to wash their hands when they enter the "Tent of Meeting."  Okay, okay, I realize this instruction is specifically for the priests, and it's referring to a ritual hand-washing, but still, this is the general message: "When you come to Temple, wash your hands so you don't die!"  Could that message be any more timely for this week?

Two days ago (Tuesday), we began our JQuest classes at Temple Isaiah by asking each person (student, teacher, teen TA) to wash their hands as they entered.  Our Executive Vice-President stood at the door offering hand sanitizer to each person, or sending them to the bathroom to wash their hands with soap and water.  Literally, "Wash your hands when you enter Temple [so you don't die]!"  Wow, timely, huh?

Less than 24 hours later, the situation in our area changed rapidly enough that we decided to cancel most group gatherings at Temple Isaiah, including JQuest.  While we still encourage hand washing, our day-to-day practices are now different.  "Stay home," we said. "Don't go to places with 50+ people," we said.

In Jewish tradition, we move from study of Torah to study of Rabbinic texts (including the Talmud), since the Rabbis explore and expand on biblical texts.  There is a custom of reading a page of Talmud per day (called "Daf Yomi"), and I've been doing Daf Yomi since the new cycle started in January 2020.  On today's daf (page), we read about four different types of "domains," as defined by the Rabbis:

1) The private domain (r'shut ha'yachid)
2) The public domain (r'shut ha'rabim)
3) Karmelit (a domain that's neither public or private, but somewhere in between... more to come about this)
3) An "exempt" domain (makom pa'toor) (for more about this one, you'll have to get started studying Talmud! It's a bit too complicated for me to explain in this post)

This section of Talmud details things you can and cannot do on Shabbat... in particular, you are not allowed to carry things from one domain to another.  So, it's important to know what a domain is, and when you're moving between domains.

The Talmud gives fairly straightforward definitions for private and public domains.  For our modern purposes, we can think of them like this... a private domain is private to you - i.e. your house.  A public domain has to be very public - a major thoroughfare, for example... a place that is open on both ends, fairly wide, and where thousands of people traverse on a regular basis.  In our world today, we might think of a public domain as something like a highway.  But then there's that third category - karmelit.  There are endless discussions in the Talmud that try to understand the karmelit - it is that 'gray area' when it comes to domains - not quite public, not quite private.

As I've been studying Talmud and reading about these domains, I keep thinking about the latest Coronavirus recommendations, vis-a-vis public and private space (and that gray area the Rabbis called karmelit).

We can all agree that if you're quarantined (whether due to self-quarantine or mandated quarantine), it means you should stay in r'shut ha'yachid (your private domain) - i.e. stay home.

Most recommendations in the last few days have also said that people (whether sick or not) should avoid large crowds (concerts, sporting events, parades, etc).  Though this is not the definition of "public domain" by the Rabbis, my thinking in light of Coronavirus is "Stay away from the r'shut ha'rabim (public domain, i.e. large crowds).

Where it's tricky is karmelit - What do we do about smaller gatherings?  What's considered safe, and what's considered risky?  Do airports count as r'shut ha'rabim?  Restaurants?  The gym? A gathering with local family and friends at someone's house? A birthday party with 30 people?  How many people is too many?  In the area where I live, there is a recommendation to cancel all gatherings of 50 people or more.  In other cities, there are different guidelines (NYC is banning events with 500 people or more).  For all of us around the world, the question is the same - where do we draw the line?  What is karmelit, and what is r'shut ha'rabim?  Or do we avoid that question altogether and limit ourselves to r'shut ha'yachid (the private domain)?

When the Rabbis of the Talmud debate something and cannot settle on an answer, they end with the expression "tayku."  Literally, "let it stand," but colloquially it means "this dilemma will remain unresolved."  Or "we have no idea."  Or, some say it's an acronym meaning "The Messiah will ultimately solve all difficult questions" (i.e. one day, when the Messiah comes, we'll figure it out!).

And so when it comes to Coronavirus and which domains to enter and which domains to avoid, I say - tayku.

Why Bother? A Religious School Manifesto

*This goes out to all parents thinking of sending their kids to a (Jewish) religious school… to parents who were raised Jewish, those who chose Judaism, and those who aren’t Jewish but married a Jew.*

In the last month, I’ve had several conversations that got me thinking.  One friend asked a group of us who went to Jewish summer camp together (we are now grown up with kids of our own), “Are you going to send your kids to religious school?”  In another social situation, a friend innocently asked “Why do kids go to religious school twice a week starting in third grade?”  In both cases, these friends of mine are connected to the Jewish community and are already committed to raising Jewish kids.  But they (along with many others) wonder about the value of religious school, and about the time commitment required to take part in it.  Is it worth it?

In our era of extreme busyness, and in a time when there are many Jewish families in which one parent is Jewish and the other parent is not, it’s a reasonable question to ask – Why bother with religious school?  And why should our kids attend religious school twice a week from third grade to seventh grade, as is the case in most synagogues around the country?[1]

To answer these questions, we have to take a step back and ask, “Why be Jewish?”  What’s so special or important about being Jewish?  If it’s possible to be a good person without religion, then what’s the point?   Each of us may have different answers to these questions, but my guess is there are some common threads.  Jewish values mean something to us.  Yes, there are “American values,” but Jewish values ground us and guide us.   Jewish values encompass many generic human values such as kindness and compassion, but there are values unique to Judaism, too, such as the value of rest (see: Shabbat) and a commitment to community (see: minyan).  Being Jewish means you are part of a chain of tradition thousands of years old, and when you take it seriously, it helps you know who you are and what you stand for.  Being Jewish means being part of something larger than yourself / your family.  At its best, Judaism can give meaning and purpose to your life.  It has a calendar that can give shape and meaning to time, it has rituals that can bring holiness into your life and the world.  When you are in crisis or feel like you’re free-floating, Judaism can give you roots, a foundation, a structure, texts, stories, prayers, and teachings to give you direction and hope. 

If Judaism is so valuable[2], we would naturally want to pass it down to our children, to raise our children as Jews.  But how? 

Children have to learn.  They are not born knowing who they are and where they fit into the world.  It is our obligation as parents to provide them roots, to give them a foundation for their life and help them understand the world around them.   Therefore, if we want our children to be Jewish, to truly live with Jewish values and to find Judaism meaningful, then they need to learn.  Parents can teach their children, but most parents cannot do it alone. 

Parents alone can’t teach their kids what it means to be Jewish because part of being Jewish is a connection to community.  “Jewish” is not an individual identity.  It is a group identity.  It is being part of a people.  It is possible to teach your kids about Jewish community by getting together with other Jewish families, but it is much easier when you’re part of a synagogue.  Kids learn that there are lots of other Jews out there, and that being part of a Jewish community is an essential component of Judaism.  We support each other through tough times, and we celebrate together in good times.  We teach each other and we learn from each other.  We do not do Judaism alone. 

Plus, there is so much to learn!  Children have to learn what Judaism is – not just the most popular holidays (see: Chanukah), but also about God, Torah, Israel, Jewish values, Hebrew, prayer, Jewish history, and much more.  There are not many parents who really want to do that all themselves, so we look to institutions to help us.

Yes, some religious schools are bad.  They are boring.  They haven’t changed in 30 years.  But luckily, in the landscape of Jewish education, things are changing.  There are AMAZING religious schools out there (see Mayim in Boston and JQuest B’yachad in Philadelphia for two innovative examples).  There are conferences and articles about innovation in religious schools, and synagogues are making changes for the better.  If the religious school near you is same-old same-old and you don’t like it, then agitate for change or find a new synagogue.  Get involved in leadership at your synagogue to have an impact on education.  Join the education committee.  Volunteer to be on the board.  But don’t just give up and decide that religious school isn’t worth it.

Yes, there are many competing priorities in our lives as parents today.  There’s school, sports, arts, way too much homework, trying to make time for family and friends… but each of us must ask ourselves at the end of the day, “Where does this ancient, beautiful, meaningful tradition of Judaism fit into our lives?”  Religious school has to be a priority if you want your children to grow up knowing what it means to be Jewish and finding meaning in Judaism.

If Judaism is not meaningful to you, and it’s not important to you to pass the tradition to the next generation, then of course that is your choice.   But eventually, then, Judaism will cease to be part of your family’s lineage.   But if Judaism IS important to you, and if you want Judaism to continue (and not only for Orthodox Jews), then your children are our future.   This manifesto is not meant to be another parental guilt trip, it’s intended to serve as a reminder for why passing on our values, our tradition, our history, our culture is worth it.  And that when done well, religious school gives kids the opportunity to learn, do, and be in Jewish community… to develop their identity as Jews, to be the next link in the chain of tradition.  Don’t you want that for your kids?  

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[1] Note: I don’t like the term “religious school”, but it’s widely understood to refer to educational programs at synagogues that are a few hours a week.  Some people refer to these programs as “Hebrew school,” “part-time Jewish education,” or “supplemental education.”  At my synagogue we call our program JQuest. You can read more about why I can’t stand the term “religious school,” but I’m going to use it for the rest of this manifesto for consistency.

[2] If you don’t find Judaism valuable, then I’d recommend starting there – figuring out whether you want Judaism to be valuable to you, and if so, how it might be in the future.  I suggest contacting your local rabbi or cantor or Jewish educator to talk more about it.