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Converting to Judaism has defined my high school experience
This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives.
(JTA) — During the pandemic, my mom decided to start baking; my friend Reagan learned Osage, a Native American language; my brother taught himself how to skateboard.
I decided to channel my free time and energy into converting to Judaism.
Growing up in the Bible Belt, I was only ever exposed to Christian theology. Almost everyone around me was a Baptist. Although my parents intentionally raised my brother and me without a focus on religion, I grew up going to Christian preschool, Christian summer camps, and being surrounded by other Christians–just because there weren’t other options. While this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, I always knew that Christianity wasn’t right for me.
At first, the idea of eternal life and an all-knowing God provided comfort, but as I got older I started to feel disconnected from Christianity. Concepts like the Holy Trinity never made sense to me, and by age 12 I thought I had given up on religion entirely.
I first started looking into Judaism towards the end of 2020. I’m not really sure what led me to this; I just stumbled upon it and found that its emphasis on making the ordinary holy, repairing the world, and the pursuit of knowledge was a perfect fit for my already existing beliefs. My parents were a little bit shocked but ultimately supportive when I told them that I wanted to convert. My mom’s main concern was that I would become the target of antisemitism. “I’m happy for you and try not to think about the what-ifs,” she said while driving me to the Jewish community center so that I could board the bus headed to the BBYO Jewish youth group’s International Convention.
In the spring of 2021, I emailed the rabbi at a local synagogue about my potential conversion. During our first conversation, he asked me if I’d heard about the custom of rabbis turning away potential candidates three times. I told him I had, but that if he turned me away I would just keep coming back. After the meeting, I signed up for conversion classes and started attending services regularly — and I wasn’t alone.
According to a 2021 Tablet survey, 43% of American rabbis are seeing more conversion candidates than before. The reasons for conversion are diverse. Some candidates fell down an internet rabbit hole that led to a passion for Judaism. Others took an ancestry test and wanted to reconnect with their Jewish heritage. Many were raised as Reform Jews but weren’t Jewish according to stricter halachic, or Jewish legal, standards and decided to convert under Conservative or Orthodox auspices. Despite the common stereotype that Jews by choice must be converting for the sake of marriage, many rabbis said that converts are less likely than ever to be converting for a Jewish partner.
After meeting with a rabbi about the potential conversion, candidates are expected to learn everything they can about Judaism. In my case, that meant 21 weeks of hour-long, weekly conversion classes in addition to independent study on Jewish mysticism, traditions, and ideas. Candidates are also expected to become active members of their local Jewish community and attend services regularly.
Once the candidate and the rabbi feel they are ready to convert, a beit din, or a court usually made up of three rabbis, is assembled. They will conduct an interview, asking the candidate about what brought them to Judaism and basic questions about what was taught during conversion classes. When the beit din has guaranteed that the candidate genuinely wants to convert, the candidate immerses in the mikveh, a pool used for ritual purification. After submerging in the mikveh, the convert is considered to be officially Jewish and is typically called up for an aliyah, ascending the platform where the Torah is read.
According to Rabbi Darah Lerner, who served in Bangor, Maine before her retirement last year, the main difference between teens converting alone and teens converting with their family is the parental approval that’s needed, but otherwise the process is very similar. “I treated them pretty much as I did with adults,” she said. For me, the only parental approval needed was my mom telling my rabbi that she and my dad were fine with me starting the conversion process. She also noted that it was easier for teens to integrate into the Jewish community because people were excited to see young people interested in Judaism.
A mikveh, like this one at Mayyim Hayyim outside of Boston, is a ritual pool where Jews by choice immerse as part of the conversion process. (Courtesy Mayyim Hayyim)
She said that the Jewish community gave the teens a place where they could ask questions and not be shut down. “If they have a pushback, or a curiosity, or a problem we allow them to ask it and we give them real answers or resources,” she said.
“I feel extremely privileged when youth come to me with these questions and these desires,” Rabbi Rachael Jackson, from Hendersonville, North Carolina. Jackson has worked with three teens in the conversion process over the past two years. Like Lerner, she doesn’t require teens to wait until they turn 18 to begin the conversion process. However, it’s not unusual for rabbis to recommend that teens wait until they turn 18 to begin their conversion.
My conversion process has defined my high school experience. I’ve been able to connect with other Jews at my school through BBYO, which has helped me find a community at school and meet people who I might not have met otherwise. Although it’s made me feel farther from the Christian community I was once a part of, Judaism has given me spiritual fulfillment, a love for Israel, and a sense of community — both in my synagogue and my BBYO chapter.
Others who have gone through the process feel much the same way. “I wouldn’t even recognize myself,” said Haven Lail, 17, from Hickory, North Carolina. “My whole personality is based on being Jewish. That’s what I love.” Adopted into a Jewish family at age 12, Lail felt drawn to Judaism because of the loving and accepting community she found.
Raised as a nondenominational Christian, Lail attended church regularly with her biological parents, but not for the religious aspect. “It was all hellfire and brimstone,” she said. Neglected by her birth parents, she only went to church because she knew there would be food there.
Lail started the conversion process at age 12 through a Hebrew high school, and four years later, she submerged in the mikveh and signed a certificate finalizing her conversion. The process was simple, but she was shocked that so few Jews knew about the conversion process. “It was a little weird,” she said.
The Talmud says that because “the Jewish people were themselves strangers, they are not in a position to demean a convert because he is a stranger in their midst.” However, it isn’t uncommon for converts to feel alienated from the rest of the Jewish community. “There’s this fear of going to college and still being othered because you still won’t quite fit in with the people who have been raised Jewish,” said one high school senior from North Carolina.
He was shocked by how alienated he felt after making his conversion public, and wanted to stay anonymous because he worries that once people find out that he converted, they’ll see him differently. “I didn’t ever really explain it to anybody except for the people really close to me,” he said. But after his rabbi called him up for an aliyah — a blessing recited during the reading of the Torah — one woman from the congregation began to bring it up to him every time she saw him. “People don’t realize that it can be a touchy thing and very, very othering,” he said.
I usually don’t mind personal questions about my conversion, but asking someone why they converted or pointing out that someone is a convert is frowned upon by Jewish law. I used to feel like everyone could tell that I wasn’t raised Jewish, but after one of my BBYO advisors thought that my conversion was just a rumor and couldn’t believe that it was true, I realized that wasn’t the case.
All of my friends and peers who were raised Jewish have memories of Jewish summer camps, Shabbat dinners with family, and a lifetime of other experiences. I often struggle with not feeling “Jewish enough” or like I missed out, especially because so many Jewish customs revolve around the home and family. My parents will often come with me to Shabbat services, but don’t participate in Jewish customs or celebrate Jewish holidays with me. “Anything that is a ritual in the home, they don’t really have the ability to have that autonomy,” said Rabbi Rachael Jackson of Agudas Israel Congregation in Hendersonville, North Carolina.
Grace Hamilton, a student at Muskingum University in New Concord, Ohio, has struggled with imposter syndrome during her conversion. Ever since she started college, she’s been questioning her place in the Jewish community and hasn’t been practicing Judaism as much as she used to. “I haven’t prayed in a really long time,” she said. She used to tell herself that once she finalized her conversion she would finally feel Jewish enough, but after a conversation with her rabbi, she realized that wasn’t the case.
According to Rabbi Rochelle Tulik at Temple B’rith Kodesh in Rochester, New York, many converts feel like they will never be Jewish enough. “That, no matter how hard they try, how many books they read or put on their shelves, no matter how often they come to services, or how many menorahs they light, somehow they’ll be caught,” she said in a Rosh Hashanah sermon she named “You Are Not an Imposter.”
Despite the struggles that many converts face, others like Rabbi Natasha Mann, who now serves as a rabbi at New London Synagogue in England, immediately felt at home within the Jewish community. “I felt like people were excited to have me there and wanted to hear what I had to say,” she said. After a family member mentioned that she might have Jewish ancestry, Mann began exploring out of curiosity. “I started looking into it, just because I felt that it was another piece of the puzzle,” she said.
Coming from an interreligious and intercultural family, she wanted to explore another aspect of her heritage, but ended up connecting with Judaism in a way that she hadn’t connected with any other religion. After two years of study, she decided to officially start her conversion process.
The Jewish community gave Mann a place where her ideas were taken seriously and she could have religious discussions, even as a teen. “I don’t know what my life would have looked like if I hadn’t found somewhere to really express and delve into that,” she said. “And luckily, I never have to.”
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The post Converting to Judaism has defined my high school experience appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Democratic leader says GOP-led Congress boosted ICE funding while Jewish security is underfunded
House Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries used a Jewish gathering in New York on Sunday to spotlight what he described as an imbalance in federal priorities, building on outrage over the Trump administration’s violent crackdown in Minneapolis that resulted in two fatal shootings.
Jeffries criticized the Republican-controlled Congress for boosting immigration enforcement funding by billions while, he said, security funding for Jewish institutions continues to lag amid rising antisemitic threats. He said that in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which passed last July and included cuts to Medicaid, the Department of Homeland Security received an additional $191 billion, including $75 billion for ICE.
“If that can happen, then the least that we can do is ensure that this vital security grant program is funded by hundreds of millions of dollars more to keep the Jewish community and every other community safe,” Jeffries said.
The Nonprofit Security Grant Program, established by Congress in 2005 and administered by FEMA under the Department of Homeland Security, provides funding to nonprofits, including houses of worship, to strengthen security against potential attacks. Congress began significantly increasing funding in 2018 after a wave of synagogue attacks nationwide, bringing the program to $270 million today.
Major Jewish organizations are pushing to raise funding to $500 million amid rising antisemitic threats. Last year, the Trump administration briefly froze the program as part of broader agency cuts, and some groups have been reluctant to apply because applicants must affirm cooperation with federal immigration enforcement.
Jeffries said House Democrats strongly support an increase to $500 million annually to meet escalating security needs. “It’s got to be an American issue, because that is what combating antisemitism should be all about,” he said.
The breakfast, previously held at the offices of the UJA-Federation of New York, was held this year for the first time in the events hall at Park East Synagogue, which was the site of a pro-Palestinian protest last year that featured antisemitic slogans and posters.
Sunday’s program also included remarks from Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, who told the audience that his support for Jewish security funding will only continue growing under his leadership, calling it his “baby.”
“As long as I’m in the Senate, this program will continue to grow from strength to strength, and we won’t let anyone attack it or undo it,” Schumer said.
Rep. Jerry Nadler, the co-chair of the Congressional Jewish Caucus who is retiring at the end of the year after 36 years in the House, also spoke at the event. Nadler, like several other Democrats in recent months, compared the actions of ICE agents to the Gestapo, Nazi Germany’s secret police. The comparison has drawn sharp criticism from Democrats, Republicans and Jewish leaders.
Support for Israel aid

Both Schumer and Jeffries vowed in their remarks to continue supporting U.S. military assistance to Israel, amid increasing calls within the party for sharper opposition to Israel. Polls show that Democratic voters are increasingly sympathetic to Palestinians. In July, a record 27 Senate Democrats, a majority of the caucus, supported a pair of resolutions calling for the blocking of weapons transfers to Israel.
“I think it’s the humane thing to do to ensure that Israel has a right to exist as a Jewish and democratic state and eternal homeland for the Jewish people,” Jeffries said. The House Minority Leader, who has cultivated close ties with Jewish leaders since his election in 2012, noted that he has visited Israel nine times. He recalled that on his recent trip, Israel’s ambassador to the U.S., Yechiel Leiter, joked that it might be time for Democrats to buy property in Jerusalem.
Schumer, the nation’s highest-ranking Jewish elected official, has seen his popularity decline and has faced calls to step down from his role as leader. On Sunday, he pledged that he “will always fight to give Israel what it needs to protect itself from the many who want to wipe Israel off the face of the map.”
The post Democratic leader says GOP-led Congress boosted ICE funding while Jewish security is underfunded appeared first on The Forward.
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Antisemitism speech sparks pushback from Jewish conservatives
(JTA) — When Orit Arfa read political theorist Yoram Hazony’s recent comments on antisemitism on the American right, she decided that her past admiration for him no longer justified staying silent about what she sees as a moral failure.
Arfa, who served until last month as a spokesperson for Hazony, responded Thursday with a deeply personal essay in Tablet magazine titled “Yoram Hazony’s 15 Minutes.” She wrote about her departure after four years from the Edmund Burke Foundation, the organization Hazony founded that is an institutional hub of the national conservatism movement. In her essay, she accused Hazony of erasing work she and others did under his leadership and of publicly faulting Jewish institutions for failures she says he knowingly helped create.
“I have known and admired Yoram for many years,” Arfa wrote, praising his scholarship and describing his 2015 book on the Book of Esther as one of the most influential works in her intellectual life. “It’s with a heavy heart, then, that I feel compelled to set the record straight.”
An Israeli conservative intellectual, Hazony is one of the architects of national conservatism, arguing for a politics grounded in nationalism, religion and tradition. His ideas have gained influence among Republican politicians, donors and movement strategists, particularly within the wing of the party associated with figures like Vice President JD Vance.
Hazony’s influence has placed him at the center of a growing dispute on the Jewish right, as the movement he helped shape confronts allegations of antisemitism in its orbit. Hazony has declined requests for an interview from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in recent months.
Because of Hazony’s prominence, Arfa’s break with him has resonated well beyond their personal history, highlighting a broader debate among Jewish conservatives over how to confront antisemitism when it comes not from political opponents, but from figures embedded in the American right.
That debate was thrust into the open after Hazony’s keynote speech earlier this week at the Second International Conference on Combating Antisemitism in Jerusalem, where he forcefully condemned antisemitic rhetoric aired on the program of conservative media figure Tucker Carlson. Hazony described Carlson’s show as a “circus of aggressive anti-Jewish propaganda,” listing familiar antisemitic tropes aired by guests.
“These aren’t normal political messages, disagreeing with other members of the Trump coalition on legitimate policy issues,” Hazony said. “They’re abusive, wild slanders, and their repeated appearance on Tucker’s show has persuaded almost every Jew I know that the program’s purpose is to drive Jews—along with tens of millions of Zionist Christians—out of the Trump coalition and out of the Republican party.”
At the same time, Hazony argued that Jewish and Christian Zionist activists had failed to persuade Republican leaders to distance themselves from Carlson — not because Carlson was too powerful, but because critics had not presented their case professionally. He mocked the absence of a concise, evidence-based “15-minute explainer video” that could persuade conservatives unfamiliar with Carlson’s program, calling this a sign of “extreme incompetence” by what he labeled the “antisemitism-industrial complex.”
That claim became the focal point of Arfa’s response.
“The truth, as Yoram well knows, is that there is such a video,” she wrote. According to Arfa, she and other Edmund Burke Foundation staff members worked with Hazony to produce exactly such an explainer — a 14-minute, 57-second compilation of examples of antisemitic rhetoric aired on Carlson’s program.
Hazony, she said, chose not to make it public.
“He kept it unlisted in an obscure account,” Arfa wrote, adding that she was “flabbergasted” to hear Hazony publicly insist no such work existed. “It saddens me that he would diminish the work of his dedicated employees by erasing our efforts.”
A spokesperson for Hazony did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
The dispute over Hazony’s speech has become a proxy for a larger argument about responsibility and strategy. Hazony is urging Jews to focus on building alliances with what he describes as the dominant nationalist wing of the Republican Party, arguing that moralistic confrontations risk alienating potential allies and entrenching antisemitism.
“What would you find if you actually invested the time and effort, and opened those doors?” Hazony said in his speech. “Mostly, you’d discover that nationalist Republicans are not anti-Semites. That they are strongly committed to having Jews in their coalition. That they would like to have closer relations with the Jewish community. That many of them see Israel as an inspiration and wish America were more like Israel. In short, you’d discover that most of them are potential friends and allies.”
Critics counter that this approach shifts responsibility away from political leaders who tolerate antisemitism. Several commentators on the right have argued that treating antisemitism as a communications problem, rather than a moral red line, risks normalizing it.
Tablet, where Arfa’s essay was published, issued an unusually scathing response on social media, accusing Hazony of effectively blaming Jews for their own marginalization.
In a post on X directly responding to a Hazony, Tablet wrote, “Tucker Carlson could goose-step down Pennsylvania Avenue butt-naked with a swastika carved into his forehead and it would be the fault of ‘the anti-semitism industrial complex’ for not making the case ‘clear enough’ to ‘Republican nationalists.’”
Tablet’s post added, “The fault doesn’t lie with the Jews for being targeted by political arsonists. It lies with those people themselves, and with those who have given them political and intellectual cover, yourself included.”
The post went on to accuse Hazony of importing European-style ethnonationalist ideas into an American context defined by constitutional liberalism and religious pluralism, warning that such thinking risked alienating both Jews and the broader electorate.
Others focused less on ideology than on political accountability. Max Abrahms, a political scientist who studies extremism and political violence, argued that Hazony’s framing functioned as a defense of powerful allies who have declined to distance themselves from Carlson.“I interpret this as a defense for your political allies, especially J.D. Vance and Kevin Roberts who won’t ditch Tucker,” Abrahms wrote.
A broader critique came from Saul Sadka, a conservative writer and analyst, who accused Hazony of minimizing antisemitism in service of what he considered a marginal political project. Writing on X, Sadka argued that Hazony mischaracterized the Republican Party, overstated the influence of nationalist conservatives, and pressured Jews to align themselves with forces that, he said, are both electorally weak and tolerant of antisemitic rhetoric.
For her part, Arfa,wrote in Tablet that she’d prefer to stay out of the conversation now that’s stopped working for Hazony. Her focus is on studying to become a rabbi at the Abraham Geiger College in Potsdam, Germany, a seminary affiliated with Reform and liberal Judaism.
The post Antisemitism speech sparks pushback from Jewish conservatives appeared first on The Forward.
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What’s missing in our Jewish high schools
ווען איך בין געווען אַ קינד אין די 1960ער און 70ער יאָרן זענען געווען גאָר ווייניק טאָגשולן פֿאַר ייִדישע קינדער. האָבן ס׳רובֿ משפּחות געשיקט די קינדער אין די עפֿנטלעכע שולן, און ווי אַ צוגאָב — אין אַ תּלמוד־תּורה אָדער ייִדישער נאָכמיטאָג־שול צו קריגן אַ ביסל ייִדישע בילדונג.
הײַנט זענען אָבער דאָ אַ סך ייִדישע טאָגשולן, פֿון פּראָגרעסיווע ביז חרדישע. אין דעם אַרטיקל וועל איך זיך קאָנצעטרירן אויף די מאָדערן־אָרטאָדאָקסישע מיטלשולן, כאָטש מע וואָלט עס געקענט אויך ווענדן אויף אַלע שולן וואָס שטרעבן אײַנצופֿלאַנצן אין די תּלמידים אַ טיפֿע פֿאַרבינדונג מיט זייערע ייִדישע וואָרצלען.
אין 2013 האָט דער „פּיו‟־פֿאָרום פּובליקירט די רעזולטאַטן פֿון אַן אַרומנעמיקער שטודיע וועגן די אַמעריקאַנער ייִדן, וואָס האָט באַוויזן, שוואַרץ אויף ווײַס, עטלעכע בפֿירושע טענדענצן אין דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישער קהילה. איינס פֿון די געפֿינסן איז געווען דער ממשותדיקער וווּקס פֿון דער אָרטאָדאָקסישער באַפֿעלקערונג, בפֿרט אין ניו־יאָרק און ניו־דזשערזי.
איין סיבה פֿאַרן וווּקס, האָבן די פֿאָרשער משער געווען, איז ווײַל 48% אָרטאָדאָקסישע ייִדן האָבן פֿיר אָדער מער קינדער, בעת בלויז 9% אַנדערע ייִדישע עלטערן האָבן גרויסע משפּחות. אַ צווייטע סיבה: 98% אָרטאָדאָקסישע ייִדן האָבן אַ ייִדישן מאַן אָדער פֿרוי, בעת בײַ די קאָנסערוואַטיווע ייִדן האָבן 73% אַ ייִדישן זיווג, און בײַ רעפֿאָרם־ייִדן — 50%. אַ קינד וואָס ווערט דערצויגן בײַ צוויי ייִדישע עלטערן וועט געוויינטלעך זיך גיכער אידענטפֿיצירן ווי אַ ייִד איידער איינס בײַ וועמען איינער פֿון די עלטערן איז נישט קיין ייִד.
דער פּועל־יוצא פֿון דעם אַלץ איז אַז די ייִדישע טאָגשולן און מיטלשולן, בפֿרט די אָרטאָדאָקסישע, האָבן הײַנט מער תּלמידים ווי זיי האָבן ווען אַ מאָל געהאַט. עלטערן פֿון די פֿרומע שולן האָפֿן אַז דורכן שיקן די קינדער אַהין וועלן זייערע קינדער קריגן אַ געראָטענע ייִדישע בילדונג און במילא פֿאַרבלײַבן פֿרומע ייִדישע קינדער.
נישט תּמיד אַרבעט זיך עס אָבער אויס אַזוי. הינטער די קוליסן שושקען זיך די עלטערן, לערער און שול־דירעקטאָרן — גיכער בײַ די מאָדערן־אָרטאָדאָקסישע מיטלשולן איידער בײַ די חרדישע — וועגן אַן אָנגעווייטיקטן ענין: נישט געקוקט אויף זייערע גרעסטע באַמיִונגען, גייען געוויסע גראַדואַנטן פֿון די מיטלשולן „אַראָפּ פֿון דרך‟; דאָס הייסט — זיי היטן מער נישט קיין פֿרום לעבן.
ווען איך רעד וועגן דעם ענין מיט נישט־רעליגיעזע מענטשן, סײַ ייִדן סײַ נישט־ייִדן, וועלן זיי אָפֿט קוועטשן מיט די אַקסלען און זאָגן: „וואָס איז דאָ דער חידוש? מיר וווינען אין אַ פֿרײַער געזעלשאַפֿט, וווּ קינדער קענען אויסקלײַבן זייער אייגענעם לעבן־שטייגער. אויב דאָס קינד איז צופֿרידן מיטן לעבן וואָס ער האָט פֿאַר זיך אויסגעקליבן, דאַרפֿן די עלטערן אויך זײַן צופֿרידן.‟
ענטפֿער איך זיי, אַז ווען עלטערן גלייבן שטאַרק אין אַ געוויסער אידעאָלאָגיע, איז נאַטירלעך אַז זיי וועלן אַנטוישט ווערן אויב זייער קינד וואַרפֿן עס אָפּ. אַ מאַמע וואָס איז, למשל, זייער איבערגעגעבן צו געוויסע פּראָגרעסיווע אידעאַלן, וואָס מאַרשירט מיט אירע פֿרײַנד אויף פּאָליטישע דעמאָנסטראַציעס און ברענגט אַפֿילו מיט איר קינד — וועט זיכער אַנטוישט ווערן אויב דאָס קינד שליסט זיך שפּעטער אָן אין דער רעפּובליקאַנער פּאַרטיי. בײַ איר וואָלט דאָס אויך געהייסן אַז ער איז „אַראָפּ פֿון דרך‟.
די סיבות פֿאַר וואָס אַ קינד פֿון אַ פֿרומער היים וואָלט פֿאַרלאָזט אַזאַ לעבן־שטייגער זענען אָפֿט זייער קאָמפּליצירטע און אַ רעזולטאַט פֿון עטלעכע פֿאַקטאָרן. דורך מײַנע אייגענע שמועסן מיט מיטלשול־גראַדואַנטן האָב איך אַנטדעקט פֿיר מעגלעכע סיבות דערפֿאַר:
- נאָכן גראַדויִרן, פֿאָרט דער סטודענט אַוועק שטודירן אין אַ סעקולערן קאָלעדזש און דאָרט דערפֿילט ער אַז דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן האַלט אים אָפּ פֿון זיך אויסלעבן ווי אַ פֿרײַער פֿויגל (ענלעך צום ייִנגל וואָס באַשרײַבט די דערשטיקנדיקע ליבשאַפֿט פֿון דער מאַמען אין איציק מאַנגערס ליד, „אויפֿן וועג שטייט אַ בוים‟).
- ער אָדער זי גלייבט נישט אין גאָט און זעט דערפֿאַר נישט קיין זינען אין היטן די מיצוות.
- ער אָדער זי האָט געליטן פֿון אַן אומגליקלעך משפּחה־לעבן און האָט דערפֿאַר נעגאַטיווע אַסאָציאַציעס מיט דער משפּחה, אַרײַנגערעכנט איר פֿרומקייט,
- ער אָדער זי איז „גיי‟ (האָט ליב דעם זעלבן מין) און פֿילט זיך אַרויסגעשלאָסן פֿונעם פֿרומען ציבור צוליב דער תּורהס פֿאַרווערן אַזוינע באַציִונגען.
שטעלט זיך די פֿראַגע: איז דאָ עפּעס וואָס די מיטלשולן וואָלטן געקענט טאָן פֿאַר יענע תּלמידים איידער זיי פֿאַרלאָזן דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן? אויב מע האָט שוין אויסגעפּרוּווט אַלע קירובֿ־מיטלען און עס העלפֿט ווײַטער נישט, זאָל מען זיך פּשוט אונטערגעבן? איך האַלט אַז ניין. יעדעס קינד וואָס גראַדויִרט פֿון אַ ייִדישער מיטלשול, וואָלט געדאַרפֿט אַרויסקומען ווי אַ שטאָלצער ייִד, אַפֿילו אויב ער דריקט עס אויס אויף אַ נישט־רעליגיעזן אופֿן. און טאַקע דערפֿאַר דאַרפֿן די שולן אַנטוויקלען די ייִדישע אידענטיטעט פֿון די תּלמידים נישט בלויז אינעם רעליגיעזן זינען אָבער אויך אינעם נאַציאָנאַל־קולטורעלן.
איין אופֿן, וואָס ס׳רובֿ טאָגשולן טוען שוין, איז דורכן פֿאַרשטאַרקן די קינדערס אידענטיפֿיקאַציע מיט מדינת־ישׂראל. דאָס העלפֿט אויב דער בחור אָדער מיידל וועט שפּעטער טאַקע עולה זײַן. אין דער אמתן אָבער וועלן ס׳רובֿ תּלמידים זיך נישט באַזעצן אין ישׂראל, אַזוי אַז דאָס אַליין איז נישט קיין לייזונג.
וואָס מע דאַרף יאָ טאָן איז לערנען דעם תּלמיד די פֿילפֿאַרביקייט פֿון זײַן ייִדישן אָפּשטאַם, וואָס בײַ ס׳רובֿ ייִדן אין אַמעריקע איז דאָס אַ מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשער. אַחוץ די געוויינטלעכע ייִדישע לימודים ווי חומש, נבֿיאים און גמרא, דאַרף מען אויך אײַנפֿירן קורסן וואָס באַקענען די קינדער מיט דער רײַכקייט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור. ווען דער תּלמיד וועט זיך דערוויסן אַז ייִדישקייט נעמט אַרײַן נישט בלויז רעליגיע אָבער אויך די ייִדישע שפּראַך (ווײַל העברעיִש וועלן זיי זיך שוין במילא אויסלערנען), די געשיכטע, מאכלים און מוזיק פֿון אַמאָליקן ייִדישלאַנד, גיט עס אים אַ בעסערן פֿאַרשטאַנד פֿון וואָס עס הייסט צו זײַן אַ ייִד.
אַ צאָל מיטלשולן טוען דאָס שוין, אָבער בלויז אויפֿן שפּיץ מעסער. אינעם ענגליש־קלאַס, למשל, וועט דער לערער הייסן די תּלמידים לייענען אַן איבערזעצונג פֿון אַ באַשעוויס־דערציילונג. ליטעראַטור איז אָבער בלויז איין אַספּעקט פֿון קולטור. כּדי באמת אײַנצופֿלאַנצן אַן אינטערעס און ליבשאַפֿט צום עטניש־קולטורעלן אַספּעקט פֿון ייִדישקייט דאַרף מען אײַנפֿירן קורסן פֿון פֿאַרשיידענע מינים. למשל:
- אַ קלאַס וועגן דער געשיכטע פֿון די ייִדן אין מיזרח־אייראָפּע — און נישט בלויז וועגן דער ציוניסטישער באַוועגונג און דעם חורבן (דאָס לערנט מען שוין), נאָר וועגן די גרויסע אויפֿטוען במשך פֿון דער טויזנט־יאָריקער געשיכטע פֿון די ייִדן אין מיזרח־אייראָפּע: דער געבורט פֿון דער חסידישער באַוועגונג, די צעבליִונג פֿון דער ייִדישער און העברעיִשער ליטעראַטור, דער פּאָליטישער אַקטיוויזם פֿון די מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע בונדיסטן, ציוניסטן און ייִדישיסטן, און ווי די ייִדן האָבן מיטגעבראַכט אָט די קולטור־ירושה קיין אַמעריקע.
- אַ קורס וועגן ייִדישן קינאָ, וווּ די קינדער קוקן אויף קלאַסישע ייִדישע פֿילמען ווי „דער דיבוק‟, „טבֿיה‟ און „ייִדל מיטן פֿידל‟ און דיסקוטירן סײַ דעם קולטור־היסטאָרישן קאָנטעקסט, סײַ די קונסט פֿונעם פֿילם.
- אַ קלאַס פֿון קלעזמער־מוזיק, און אַפֿילו אַ וואַרשטאַט וווּ די קינדער ברענגען זייערע אינסטרומענטן און לערנען זיך ווי אַליין צו שפּילן די אַלטע ייִדישע מעלאָדיעס (אָדער אַ קלאַס פֿון פֿאַרשידענע מינים ייִדישן פֿאָלקסמוזיק, אַרײַנגערעכנט די ספֿרדישע און תּימנער טראַדיציעס).
- אַ קאָכקלאַס וווּ די קינדער לערנען זיך אויס ווי צוצוגרייטן היימישע מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע מאכלים ווי בלינצעס, קניידלעך און ראָגעלעך.
- ייִדיש־לעקציעס, ניצנדיק דעם אויסערגעוויינטלעכן קאָמפּיוטער־קורס, „ייִדיש פּאַפּ‟ וווּ קינדער לערנען זיך די שפּראַך דורך קוקן אויף די חנעוודיקע ייִדישע קאַרטונס פֿון נאָמי מיט איר ראָבאָט מאָבי— און וואָס איז, אַגבֿ, פֿרײַ פֿון אָפּצאָל.
געוויסע לערער און פּרינציפּאַלן וועלן טענהן, אַז צוליב דעם שוין געפּאַקטן לערנטאָג פֿון אַ ייִדישער מיטלשול (בפֿרט צוליב די אַוואַנסירטע סעקולערע לימודים וואָס די עלטערן פֿאָדערן כּדי זייערע קינדער זאָלן קענען אַרײַן אין די בעסטע אוניווערסיטעטן), איז פּשוט נישטאָ קיין צײַט צוצוגעבן אַזוינע קורסן. דאָס איז אָבער אַ תּירוץ פֿאַר די בענטשליכט. יעדער ווייסט אַז דאָס לערנען אַוואַנסירטע גמרא, למשל, איז נישט פֿאַר אַלעמען. אין דער זעלבער צײַט פֿונעם גמרא־קלאַס קען מען גיבן איינעם אָדער מער פֿון די קולטורקלאַסן ווי אַ ברירה.
דערצו קען מען אָפּהאַלטן די קלאַסן נאָך די געוויינטלעכע שול־שעהען. פּונקט ווי די מער אַטלעטישע תּלמידים גייען טרענירן אויף ספּאָרטמאַטשן, זאָלן תּלמידים מיט אַן אינטערעס צו קולטור זיך דערוויסן וועגן דער פֿילפֿאַרביקער קולטור־ירושה פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק און אַפֿילו גיין אויף שײַכותדיקע עקסקורסיעס צוזאַמען. די סטודענטן וואָס וווינען אין דער ניו־יאָרקער געגנט קענען, למשל, פֿאָרן צוזאַמען אין ייִדישן טעאַטער.
בקיצור, ווען מע פֿלאַנצט אײַן בײַ קינדער אַ ליבשאַפֿט צו זייער עטניש־קולטורעלן אָפּשטאַם, גיט עס זיי אַ געלעגנהייט צו בלײַבן שטאָלצע, גוט־אינפֿאָרמירטע ייִדן. נאָכן גראַדויִרן וועלן זיי קענען אויסדריקן זייער ייִדישע אידענטיטעט נישט בלויז דורך גיין אין שיל שבת און יום־טובֿ, נאָר דורכן ווײַטער זיך לערנען ייִדיש, זיך פֿאַרנעמען מיט אַקאַדעמישע פֿאָרשונגען פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער ייִדישער געשיכטע אָדער ליטעראַטור און גיין אויף ייִדישע קאָנצערטן, פֿעסטיוואַלן און קאָנפֿערענצן. דערבײַ וועלן אויך יענע קינדער, וואָס פֿאַרלאָזן דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן, ווײַטער אָנהאַלטן אַ שטאַרקע פֿאַרבינדונג מיט ייִדן און ייִדישקייט און במילא וועלן זיי, כאָטש אינעם קולטורעלן זינען, קיין מאָל נישט אַראָפּ פֿון דרך.
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