Getting Beyond "Formal vs. Informal" Education

This is a follow up article/resource on the topic of education in general, written by Jacob Cytryn in the RAVSAK Journal.

I think the article raises solid points and should empower educators to apply the same methodology to approach tefilla.

Can Education Alone Save the Jewish People

Recommended Reading from The Canadian Jewish News - By Robert Eli Rubenstein.  The only question I ask on this article is how can we evaluate our educational approach and measure the results?

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Can Education Alone Save the Jewish People?

Since biblical times, we Jews have been a famously contrary lot, and the erosion of traditional values in the modern period has only deepened the divisions. Yet there is a single article of faith proclaimed with startling unanimity and certitude by all who profess to care about the survival of the Jewish people.

From one end of the broad Jewish spectrum to the other, from secular humanists to the most rigidly devout, Jewish education is promoted as the key to securing the Jewish future. In last week’s CJN, Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman added his powerful voice to the chorus. As he put it, “Nothing is more crucial to advancing this goal [of ensuring the continuation of a strong Jewish identity] than Jewish education. At all levels, from the earliest age in the home, through formal and informal education at all levels, there is no alternative to exposing the next generation to Jewish values, traditions and identity.”

I began entertaining doubts about the conventional wisdom regarding Jewish education years ago, and these have only increased as I raised my own children and became ever more involved in the lay leadership of the Jewish schools they attended. Let me make clear that I am not saying I no longer value Jewish education. Rather, what I mean is that in the distant past, the lives of our people were suffused with a critical mass of Jewish content, and this preserved in them a strong sense of self as Jews. Today, however, the great majority of Jews wish to replace the actual practice of Judaism with mere knowledge of Judaism. As a consequence of this shift, we tend to have overblown and unrealistic expectations regarding the efficacy of Jewish education in building Jewish identity.

In 1986, the Canadian Jewish Congress, Ontario region, commissioned a “Task Force on Assimilation, Intermarriage and Jewish Identity”, which I was privileged to co-chair. Following an intensive investigative process, the taskforce issued a report setting forth recommendations for counteracting the erosion of affiliation among Jews. Looking back, I am struck by the fact that almost all the recommendations involved promoting Jewish education in one form or another. In the years since, our community’s deep conviction that Jewish education is the panacea for assimilation has continued to grow, as reflected by its ever-expanding investment in Jewish educational facilities and resources. Yet parallel to this trend and notwithstanding our heroic efforts, we have witnessed a relentless increase in the rate of attrition.

Some years ago, I was visiting in Borough Park, a Brooklyn neighbourhood heavily populated by readily identifiable chassidic Jews. While strolling along the main street on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I came across a group of people wearing baseball caps and clutching cameras, listening to a tour guide’s animated explanation of the significance of the different types of garb worn by the local residents. I was intrigued to learn that these were members of a synagogue adult education group from Long Island, who had come to catch a glimpse of how their ancestors in eastern Europe lived long ago. They were no doubt having a fine educational experience learning about their ancient heritage, but this does not mean they had any interest in living significantly Jewish lives themselves. It is the difference between being a spectator at a sporting event and being a player: the self-perceptions and actual commitments of the two are simply incomparable. And if the goal of “Jewish education” is to ensure that there will be Jews in the world of the future, no one could seriously argue that the photo-snapping tourists from Long Island were as likely to have Jewish grandchildren as the bemused black-clad chassidim walking by.

Our Jewish community is one of the most affluent, generous, and dedicated in the world, and we are justifiably proud of the wonderful schools and other institutions that we have created. The great majority of parents I know who send their children to day schools wish them to be Jewishly knowledgeable, so that one day they will be in a position to make informed decisions about how they will choose to fulfil themselves as Jews. Deep down, they hope their children will ultimately vindicate their own life choices by choosing to be just as non-observant as they themselves are. Many are the stories of day school parents, including even some leaders of the community, who have called the principal to complain indignantly about a particular teacher who “brainwashed” their child into requesting that the family start having Shabbat dinners together on Friday nights, at an hour when the parents customarily go out with their friends.

I have acquired from my own Holocaust-survivor parents an appreciation for the sacred imperative after Auschwitz of transmitting a strong Jewish consciousness to the next generation. Although my parents never attended Jewish schools, which simply did not exist in small prewar European communities, their Jewish identity has always been unwavering and vigorous, absorbed intuitively from the personal example set by their own parents in the family home. Yes, I know, times have changed. For this reason, our challenge today is to identify the success factors of times past and try to make them work in our contemporary situation.

The truth is that it requires very little objective knowledge to live a vibrant Jewish life, and in our increasingly interconnected world, this knowledge is easy to attain. The real issue is the individual Jew’s degree of motivation to seek it out and act on it. I can agree with Lieberman and many others that Jewish literacy is a worthy objective, but on the available evidence, I have my doubts that it necessarily leads to the development of a strong Jewish identity. One can acquire a comprehensive Jewish high school education, one can even become a university professor of Jewish studies, without necessarily forming an emotional commitment to living a Jewish life. The key to forming such a commitment is actually doing the rather simple things one has learned about, and doing them consistently. Such observance can move beyond mere nostalgia or folklore and become an integral part of a person’s being. An individual who embraces an all-encompassing core of Jewish activity is apt to seek a like-minded spouse, and together they will strive to raise children on this model.

A respected Jewish community professional recently told me that she herself did not observe any Jewish rituals because she never had the benefit of a day school education. I responded that it does not take very much education to know how to light Shabbat candles, for example. All that is required is the determination to do it and the ability to strike a match. My ancestors, like hers, knew what they had to do to live richly satisfying Jewish lives, without having enjoyed a formal Jewish education. Clearly, something has changed dramatically. If we truly care about securing the future of the Jewish people, as we profess, we owe it to ourselves to examine what that “something” might be, and what we need to do about it.

The celebrated 19th-century German Jewish bibliographer Moritz Steinschneider was a modern man with modern sensibilities, unwilling to lend credence to any religion, including his own. People would ask him in puzzlement why a totally non-observant Jew had chosen to spend his days cataloguing musty old Jewish books with such loving devotion. His unsettling response was that he saw it as his mission to give Judaism a decent burial. If they wish to avoid being among the pall-bearers, the many present-day Jews who share Steinschneider’s modern sensibilities yet yearn paradoxically for a bright Jewish future, need to discover meaning and satisfaction in the Jewish experience beyond merely being knowledgeable about it.

As we survey the contemporary scene, there is, to be sure, much to cause us consternation. But in all fairness, there is also much to give us hope. In Montreal and Toronto and other hubs of Jewish life, we see young people creating dynamic new communities where they devise innovative, stimulating and joyful new ways to reconnect to their sources and celebrate the age-old treasures of Judaism. Throughout our long and tortuous history, we Jews have rebounded from countless existential crises by pulling together. I am confident that in the end, we shall once again meet the challenge, for “a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”

Robert Eli Rubinstein, a Toronto businessman, is the author of An Italian Renaissance: Choosing Life in Canada, which won a 2011 Canadian Jewish Book Award.

Reapproaching the Torah Service

I just attended a fascinating session by Amichai Lau-Lavi (who is the founder and director of Storahtelling) at the Limmud Conference titled "Meet the Maven".  The session introduced the historical role of the maven - also known as a miturgaman (translator) - from the time of Ezra the Scribe.  The job of the maven was to inform and transform the Torah experience for those who didn't understand the original text.

What I thought was really important to share was Lau-Lavi's diagnosis that we have live in a time when most readers don't understand what goes on in the Torah service or are just uninterested.  He aims to reach back to a lost practice of having a skilled and trained  'maven' translate the Torah reading to the modern reader (the profession ceased almost 1,000 years ago).  There is a serious pedagogical approach behind his argument, one that I suggest you follow the link to read more about.

I am presently looking for other organizations and initiatives that are looking to reapproach tefilla in synagogues and schools.  If you know of or hear about creative ideas similar to the concept of Storahtelling, please share it with me and the readers.

The Lights of Chanukah

Chanukah is a time of miracles - but it often seems like a fairy tale or something from long ago.

Imagine if you lived in those times.... would you have believed or followed the rebellion?  If you were  in Jerusalem the year after the war (166) would you kindle the candles to celebrate the newborn holiday?   Would you change your traditional routine to add a new holiday?

As one twitter follower noted last night, similar sentiments are felt today regarding Israel's Independence Day (Yom Ha'atzmut).  Should it be embraced without a divine sign?  How can we celebrate receiving only part of the biblical territory or with such nasty neighbors?  [I think it is worth noting that Yom Ha'atzmut is the first national Jewish Holiday added to the calendar since Chanukah]

I think that too often we take for granted the circumstances of the past and the adversity that was needed to overcome the challenges to effect a significant change.  But looking at the candles tonight, I appreciate it more and it is something that causes me to really understand the meaning of our prayer for  miracles "as they happened long ago, in today's age".

Chag Urim Sameach - Happy Chanukah!

Recommended Blog - Keeping Kids in Shul

The following is reposted from Hirhurim, one the most active blogs at the forefront of Jewish issues and ideas online.  I wanted to share it in full below but encourage you to follow this link to see the original post and the comments posted there.

Here are my two cents:

The author makes a keen accounting of some rabbinical responses to the "problem" with disinterested teens and tefilla and reflect spectrum of reactions.  I appreciate that he is trying to treat the symptoms of this problem and the greater illness - that some kids don't want to come to daven.  The last two paragraphs are as honest as you get on the topic of tefilla.

Keeping Kids In Shul

December 7, 2011

 In a recent issue of Jewish Action (Summer 2011), R. Jay Goldmintz writes about the problem in the Modern Orthodox community of teens who don’t, or don’t want to, attend shul on Shabbos (link). R. Goldmintz offers a few suggestions on how to remedy the situation, which I sum up as: 1) force them to go to shul, 2) use walking to shul as a bonding opportunity, 3) model proper prayer.

I’ll have to take R. Goldmintz’s word because I’m not otherwise aware of the problem he addresses. I’m certainly familiar with teens who do not want to go to shul, or school, or anywhere. I just never imagined that their parents would give them a sustained choice in the matter. There are certain assumed activities in life and going to shul, at least for boys, ranks along with going to school. It’s a given (community customs vary for girls).

In the latest issue of Jewish Action (Winter 2011 – not yet online), a number of communal leaders respond to R. Goldmintz’s article. Dr. Benzion Sorotzkin objects to the idea of forcing kids to go to shul. “When we make harsh demands of our children, our values don’t become internalized.” Yes, but when they don’t even show up, there’s no chance for them to become full members of the community. I think Dr. Sorotzkin and R. Goldmintz are speaking of different kinds of children. Dr. Sorotzkin is warning against forcing, in an overly harsh manner, rebellious teens to attend shul. R. Goldmintz is advising to push lazy teens to shul. I don’t know that they disagree all that much.

R. Daniel Rockoff advocates getting teens involved in the service, either with a special minyan for teens or other, similar methods. That is also a worthy idea that does wonders… for kids who want to lead, or set up, or somehow get involved. As a parent of teenagers, I suspect that quite a few would find it burdensome.

R. Ron Yitzchak Eisenman writes that he is not worried. He is confident that “once these young men become husbands aand fathers, they will be found in shul on Shabbat morning along with the rest of us.” Except, presumably, those who go off the derekh entirely, for whom shul attendance is the least of their religious challenges.

Like R. Rockoff, R. Hershel Billet advocates involving teens in kiddush preparation, leading services, public speaking and otherwise in shul. R. Billet adds that raising a teen must be a partnership between parents, school and shul. They all need to work together to devise a unified prayer curriculum for schools and abbreviated prayer service for teens. I teach my kids what they can skip when they don’t feel like davening — they have to do a minimum. It would be nice for all kids to know that.

R. Dovid Gottlieb shares my puzzlement over teens missing Shabbos shul but agrees that there are many teens who fail to relate properly to prayer. Like other respondents, he points out that many adults face the same challenge. He points out that shuls are the “third line of defense,” after families and schools. His suggestions of involving teens in leading services or something else are similar to R. Rockoff’s and R. Billet’s.

The bottom line is that few of us relate adequately to prayers but we all learn to live with the parts we don’t like and appreciate the parts we do. Some don’t like the rabbi’s sermon; others the leining: others Pesukei Dezimra or the repetition of the Amidah. Regardless, we each are sufficiently mature to recognize our responsibility to attend shul, to deal with what we don’t like, to embrace aspects that speak to us and to make the most of the entire situation.

As we evolve through life, going through many stages of personal successes, crises and changes, we find that we relate differently to all aspects of life. The prayer you mumble quickly today may someday be the only hope you have to keep your family together or to regain strength after the death of a loved one or to articulate your deep gratitude for a personal success. You need to be in shul in order to find those unexpected benefits as you make your way through the ups and downs of life. But try telling that to a teenager.

Justin Bieber and Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs

I found the following article on a #jedchat conversation on twitter: Justin Bieber and the principal: The real story by Valerie Strauss in the Washington Post.  

While this article is not about tefilla, I think it is inspirational story for educators and serves as a necessary reminder about how we cannot discuss teaching to higher level cognitive abilities - the pursuit of self-actualization - without treating the basic needs of our students.  There are many distractions in and around the classroom, and these especially crowd the arena of tefilla.  Below is a diagram of Maslow's theory: 

At first glance, tefilla seems to be a higher order activity -at the top of the pyramid.  But thinking through this theory more it is clear to me that many people daven solely for their physiological needs, or for safety and for all the different components categorized.  I think that davening can be appropriate for each of these levels but it is immensely challenge to teach and practice tefilla with students at various stages of this paradigm.

For me,  I think in terms of tefilla of the reflective ability to reach my personal potential and missions of the Jewish tradition.  This is very much the vision of self-actualization.  However, modeling this for students who are cognitively, emotionally, or socially at a different place can be a recipe for disaster.  

Do You Need to Believe to Daven?

I recently read this awesome controversial educational statement on twitter:

L'hitpalel, usually translated as 'to pray,' actually means to judge/examine oneself. So, it is taught, you don't need to believe in Gd to authentically pray as a Jew. Agree? Disagree? Thoughts?

What are your thoughts on this tweet and how would your students react to this statement?