Summer ‘25/Fall ‘25
I read an article recently that reimagined religious schools in Judaism. I found it rather interesting – in that many of the ideas it spoke of, we were already implementing at TBE. Let me explain.
You probably attended Sunday school for 3 hours, and then once or twice a week after school for a couple hours in the primary grades. I remember when I would miss a class and the principal would personally speak to me about my absence. It didn’t help that my mother was a teacher at the school. I never liked feeling guilty for pursuing another passion besides Hebrew school.
Bet we’ve all noticed it – that times have changed. We are all so programmed with so many things that we’ve left no time for religious education. The old school model doesn’t really fit anymore.
The article spoke about a shared responsibility and compromise, and that we share a purpose. Our partnership is evident every Sunday at T’filah, with so many parents staying and leading by example for their children, and how many parents were involved with the activities and antics at Purim. We are all in the process of building something meaningful together.
That’s why at the JLC, we focus on the moments when we are with our students. One of our biggest priorities is to make sure we instill a passion for Judaism and a love for learning, as flexible as we have to be, in order for our students to grow into the amazing humans they will become.
Imagine a religious school that is designed not just to accommodate modern family life, but to integrate seamlessly into it. Rather than dictating rigid schedules, we could gather input from families to determine when classes work best for them. Maybe one day, instead of gathering at the synagogue, classes could meet in exciting, decentralized spaces like a family’s living room, a parent’s office, or even a local park. By creating these small, flexible cohorts of 10-15 students, we wouldn’t just make it easier for families to prioritize religious school, but we would create Kehilah Kedosha (a holy community) wherever we are.
This approach would do more than just make scheduling easier; it would fundamentally reshape how families view the role of the synagogue in their lives. Instead of feeling that guilt for missing a session, parents would feel appreciation for a synagogue that listens, adapts, and demonstrates a true commitment to educating their children. By meeting families where they are, we send a powerful message: Jewish education is not about punishment for non-attendance or guilt for having busy lives. It’s about helping our children grow into engaged, knowledgeable, and proud members of the Jewish community.
And here lies the deeper challenge: It’s not just about teaching our kids about Judaism, though that remains a priority. The real challenge is helping each child, as well as their family, find and embrace a genuine love of Judaism. When families and children fall in love with Judaism, it stops being another item on a to-do list and becomes a cherished part of their identity.
Parents, when freed from the burden of guilt, will begin to see the synagogue not as another obligation on an already overflowing to-do list, but as a partner in their child’s education and a source of support for their family. A program like this is not about lowering expectations; it’s about raising them – showing that we are willing to go to great lengths to ensure that Jewish learning happens, even in a world filled with competing priorities!
In doing so, we will not only sustain Jewish education but strengthen the bonds of community and instill a sense of shared purpose. It’s a bold move, but one that shows families we care deeply about what matters most – raising the next generation of engaged, knowledgeable, and inspired Jews who carry a profound love of Judaism in their hearts.
Barb