Uncategorized
Hebrew school enrollment across US down by nearly half since 2006, report says
(JTA) — Living in Brooklyn, surrounded by synagogues and Jewish schools, Rachel Weinstein White and her husband hoped to find a place where their children could receive a Jewish education for a few hours each week.
But they knew they didn’t want to enroll at a traditional Hebrew school associated with a local synagogue. For one thing, White wasn’t interested at the time in participating in prayer services, the main offering of most congregations. Plus, her husband is Black and not Jewish, and they were not sure how well he or their children would be welcomed.
So about eight years ago, she started her own program together with a few families, setting up a cooperative and hiring a teacher in an early version of the “learning pods” that would become a pandemic fad.
“It was just this incredible, magical year,” White said. “So many people started hearing about our little class and asked to join that it became necessary to create a second class. … It just kind of grew organically from there.”
Today the school, Fig Tree, enrolls about 350 children across three locations and plans are underway to expand further. In hour-long classes on Sundays and weekday afternoons, children learn about Jewish holidays and history, engage in art and creative play, explore their local Jewish communities and learn basic Hebrew, in a program that culminates in a b’nai mitzvah year. It overlaps significantly with traditional Hebrew schools, but outside the usual setting — a synagogue classroom — that has become a cultural shorthand among American Jews for rote, uninspiring Jewish education.
That dynamic may be why Fig Tree is an outlier in a stark trend revealed in a new report: Enrollment in supplemental Jewish schools — those that students attend in addition to regular schooling in public or secular private schools — is down by nearly half over the last 15 years.
Even as the estimated number of Jewish children in the United States rose by 17% between 2000 and 2020, enrollment in Hebrew schools fell by at least 45% between 2006 and 2020, according to the report by the Jewish Education Project, a nonprofit that promotes educational innovation and supports Jewish educators in a wide array of settings.
The report identifies pockets of growth, mostly in the small number of programs like Fig Tree that operate outside of or adjacent to synagogues, and in schools operated by the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement. But overall, according to the report, just 141,000 children attend supplemental Jewish schools in the United States and Canada, down from more than 230,000 in 2006 and 280,000 in 1987.
Some of the decline in Hebrew school enrollment is countered by increasing enrollment in Jewish day schools, where students study Jewish topics for at least part of every day. The number of U.S. children attending Jewish day schools has risen by roughly the same amount, 90,000, that Hebrew school enrollment has fallen since 2006, according to the report, though a significant portion of the increase stems from population growth in Orthodox communities, where the vast majority of students attend day schools.
Miriam Heller Stern, a professor at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion who was tapped to help design the study, said the results suggest that, as with many aspects of religious life today, Hebrew school enrollment cannot be counted on as an act of obligation or tradition.
“There’s this idea that parents send their kids to Hebrew school because they went to Hebrew school and that’s a rite of passage in North America, but that may be a myth,” she said. “People don’t want to push their kids to have to do the same thing they did, necessarily, anymore.”
The report speculates about what has fueled the enrollment decline — from demographic changes to shifts in how American Jews think about countering antisemitism to increased access to Jewish learning online — and also about what has allowed some schools to thrive. It notes that all of the supplemental schools that responded to its census said their schools help children feel connected to the Jewish people.
“We believe that many factors have led to the decline in enrollment of students in supplemental schools in the last decade,” said David Bryfman, the Jewish Education Project’s CEO. “However, it’s also a myth that all supplemental schools don’t work.”
The group is planning a series of online sessions with some of the dozens of researchers and practitioners involved in the report, with one goal the sharing of success stories identified by the survey. Of the six identified in the report, a common theme is urging experiential, community-based learning. Some of the promising models explicitly position themselves as infusing Jewish content into child care, filling a pressing need for American families.
Still, it may be hard to counter the demographic realities of contemporary American Jews: Just a third of U.S. Jews in a 2020 survey said someone in their household was a member of a synagogue. That was the case even for the majority of non-Orthodox Jews who said they identified with a particular denomination, a marker of traditional engagement.
The waning of synagogue affiliation is borne out in the Jewish Education Project’s report, which found that more than 700 supplemental schools shuttered between 2006 and 2020 — most outright, though as many as 200 have survived in a new form after merging.
Temple Solel, a small Reform congregation in Fort Mill, South Carolina, shut down its Hebrew school in recent years. The volunteer-run program had up to eight students at a time, according to Russ Cobe, a lay leader.
“We sort of hit a point where we weren’t able to sustain it,” Cobe said. “We only had a couple of people teaching and students from a wide range of ages and they wouldn’t show up every week. Also, our wheelhouse seems to be retirement age and above. We don’t have a lot of young families.”
Hebrew school mergers offer one possible approach to countering the enrollment decline. Two synagogues, one Reform and one Conservative, located half a mile apart in Oak Park, Michigan, established a joint school about seven years ago and called it Yachad, which means “together” in Hebrew.
“One day a week we meet at the Conservative congregation and one day a week we meet at the Reform congregation, so we are keeping our kids involved in both,” said Gail Greenberg, Yachad’s director. “My goal is to make it at the highest common denominator. For example, all of our food is kosher so anyone who wants to eat here can.”
The arrangement appears to be working. Last year, about 90 students were enrolled, and this year, enrollment is at 128, including 26 new kindergarteners, with even larger numbers expected in the future.
Another set of programs has grown dramatically in recent years: those affiliated with the Chabad movement, which tend to operate even when small and cost less than synagogue programs. Since 2006, the study says Chabad’s market share in terms of enrollment has grown from 4% to 10%, and in terms of the number of schools from 13% to 21%.
Those figures might represent an undercount, according to Zalman Loewenthal, director of CKids, the Chabad network of children’s programs. While the study says there are some 300 Chabad programs in the United States, Loewenthal said he is aware of at least 500 and perhaps as many as 600 — a number driven up in the last decade amid a push by Chabad to launch more Hebrew schools. His count is based on the number of customers purchasing the curriculum offered by his organization, which is also new in the last decade and in his view has contributed to improved quality among Chabad Hebrew schools.
In general, non-traditional approaches to Jewish education may be attractive at a time when American families have packed schedules and competing needs, according to Stern.
“People want to be able to have bite-sized pieces just like you sign up for a six-weeks art class, they might want a six-weeks Jewish class,” she said. “In this atmosphere, some communities are finding ways to be more modular and more flexible, and meet people’s needs in different ways.”
Stern also said, referring to six programs highlighted in the study as success stories, that the future calls for programs to offer an “immersive” experience, meaning that children become part of a community.
“They are getting something beyond just knowledge,” Stern said. “They’re also getting connection and belonging, which provides the foundation for something bigger in their lives.”
Stern said she thought the report pointed to gaps in the way American Jewish communities allocate their resources.
“Supplementary education really was abandoned as a communal priority,” she said. “Individual communities had to find ways to fund it on their own. And I think that is part of why we’re seeing a decline.”
Bryfman said he’s optimistic, both about the power of supplemental schools and the potential for them to generate new support from Jewish donors.
The Jewish Education Project had sought outside funding to pay for its study and failed, he said. But now that the numbers are clear, he is beginning to see interest from philanthropies.
“I don’t want to count the dollars before they’re granted,” Bryfman said. “But the study is already beginning to have the desired effect of bringing more resources to the field.”
Fig Tree isn’t set up to benefit in a possible future of increased charitable investments in Jewish education. That’s because the school is set up as a business — an expression of confidence in its growth and to insulate itself from the vagaries of philanthropy.
“It’s a very unusual model for the Jewish education and I would argue a self-sustaining one,” White said. “We don’t have to rely on fundraising… and we’re not beholden to some of the other requirements that a nonprofit would necessitate, which allows us to be nimble.”
—
The post Hebrew school enrollment across US down by nearly half since 2006, report says appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
The Iran War: Peace Through Strength
Mojtaba Khamenei, the second son of Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, visits Hezbollah’s office in Tehran, Iran, Oct. 1, 2024. Photo: Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
George Washington once observed, “To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.” And as it turns out, sometimes the best way to preserve peace is to go to war — and finish the job.
Until October 2023, Israel — and, to a large extent, the United States as well — operated under a doctrine that seemed sensible enough: avoid war whenever possible, and when provoked, respond in a limited, carefully measured way.
When rockets were fired, Israel retaliated just enough to signal displeasure. When terrorist leaders threatened destruction, their words were dismissed as overheated rhetoric, aimed at rallying an eager audience of haters rather than signaling an intention to wage war. And when enemies amassed weapons, the assumption was that overwhelming military superiority would deter their use.
The theory behind this approach was simple. Escalation is dangerous, and war is costly — financially and, of course, in human lives. Restraint, it was believed, would keep life relatively stable. Israel responded when necessary, but always carefully, operating on the assumption that a rap on the knuckles would be enough to signal that continuing attacks was a bad idea.
The problem, as October 7 revealed with horrifying clarity, is that not every enemy shares this logic. For some enemies, it isn’t about equilibrium or stability; it’s about inflicting violence on those you hate — again and again, without pause or restraint.
For decades, Israel’s main adversaries — Hamas, Hezbollah, and above all the Iranian regime — made their intentions clear. Their slogans were blunt: “Death to Israel,” “Death to America.” Israel, like much of the West, preferred to believe these words were exaggerations, not literal plans.
And so life went on. Gaza was tolerated as a hostile enclave, and every so often Israel “mowed the lawn.” Hezbollah, entrenched on Israel’s northern border with tens of thousands of missiles, was considered a threat that would never fully materialize. Iran, distant and absorbed in its own problems, was seen as dangerous but manageable.
The hope was that monitoring, occasional strikes, persistent warnings about a nuclear Iran, and deterrence would prevent catastrophe.
Then came October 7. The brutal massacre on Israel’s southwestern border shattered those assumptions. The belief that terror groups and their backers could be contained collapsed overnight. The idea that economic incentives or agreements might moderate radical regimes suddenly looked naïve.
Israel — and under President Trump, the United States as well — realized something fundamental: you cannot coexist with movements or regimes whose very purpose is your destruction. The rules of the game have changed.
The new doctrine is simple: if terrorists and radicals are running for their lives, they cannot threaten yours. When those plotting your destruction are forced onto the defensive, their ability to act collapses.
Over the past two years, the consequences of this shift have been dramatic. Hamas’s military structure has been dismantled and its leaders eliminated. Hezbollah’s leadership was taken out, and much of its vast missile arsenal destroyed.
And now, in a stunning development few would have imagined possible even a month ago, the Iranian regime itself has suffered devastating blows — its supreme leader eliminated in a precision strike and the IRGC crippled.
For decades Iran acted as the conductor of the anti-Israel, anti-America orchestra, funding and arming terror movements across the region while feverishly pursuing a nuclear weapon. The regime assumed it could operate safely behind its proxies, directing violence from afar while remaining immune to consequences at home. That illusion has now been shattered.
What Israel has finally rediscovered is an ancient truth: when there is a serious threat, delay is dangerous. It must be confronted quickly and decisively. This principle is not only a lesson from modern security doctrine; it has deep roots in Jewish tradition, vividly illustrated in Parshat Ki Tisa.
The central drama of this portion is the catastrophic episode of the Golden Calf. After forty days of waiting for Moses to descend from Mount Sinai, something shifts in the Israelite camp. Egged on by the pagan hangers-on who joined the Israelites during the Exodus, the people demand a replacement leader, and within hours they have constructed a golden idol.
Interestingly, most of the nation did not actively participate. They stood on the sidelines as this shocking desecration of the covenant with God unfolded before them. Perhaps they assumed it didn’t really affect them — that life could continue as normal as long as the upheaval remained confined to a relatively small group.
But when Moses descends the mountain and sees what has happened, the Torah describes an extraordinary sequence of events. Moses does not attempt to “mow the lawn.” He does not deliver a carefully calibrated response. He does not negotiate with the idolaters or seek a diplomatic compromise. Instead, he acts with stunning decisiveness.
First he shatters the tablets. Then he completely destroys the calf, grinding it into powder and scattering it on water. Then he confronts the people and demands that they make an immediate choice (Ex. 32:26): מִי לַה׳ אֵלָי — “Whoever is for God, join me.”
No equivocation, no wishy-washy middle ground: you are either with me or against me. The tribe of Levi rallies to him, and the rebellion is crushed before it can spread any further and cause irrevocable damage.
Commentators emphasize that Moses’ actions were not impulsive rage but deliberate leadership. The Ramban explains that breaking the tablets was meant to shock the nation into grasping the gravity of the situation.
Rav Hirsch observes that Moses’ call eliminated ambiguity: in moments of existential crisis, neutrality is impossible — one must choose. The Sforno adds that swift punishment of the instigators prevented the sin from becoming normalized. Moses understood what history repeatedly confirms: some crises must be confronted decisively.
Had Moses hesitated, what began as a limited aberration — serious though it was — might have metastasized into something far worse. If he had attempted compromise, or even hinted that the problem could be contained, the rot would have set in, and before long everything might have collapsed.
Instead, decisive action restored clarity. The Golden Calf was destroyed. Those who built it were eliminated. And then the covenant was renewed with a second set of tablets. The lesson is unmistakable: destructive forces must be confronted with overwhelming force before it is too late.
That pattern — crisis, decisive response, and renewal — recurs throughout Jewish history. In our own time there have been painful moments of reckoning. As a result, both the Western world in general and Israel in particular have had to rediscover the necessity of strength.
For far too long, the United States and Israel hoped that a cautious approach toward Iran and its proxies would stabilize the region. But peace and tranquility are not built on illusions. When a regime like Iran spends decades arming itself and its proxies while openly proclaiming genocidal ambitions, those ambitions cannot be ignored. If they are not confronted, the threat only grows — and eventually leads to disaster.
The war against Iran — aptly codenamed “Epic Fury” — may well be seen as a turning point. It marked the moment when the strategic assumptions that shaped the Middle East for decades were finally set aside.
The Jewish people learned long ago that survival demands difficult decisions and decisive leadership. For a time Israel drifted away from that mindset. But the ancient lesson still resonates — and has now returned with renewed conviction.
The lesson is clear: when those who threaten your destruction are confronted with resolve and strength, they can be defeated.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
Uncategorized
Mahmoud Abbas Gave Direct Orders to Name Hall After Palestinian Hitler Ally
The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Haj Amin al-Husseini, meets with Adolf Hitler in 1941. Photo: German Federal Archives via Wikimedia Commons.
During World War II, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem Haj Amin Al-Husseini was a Nazi ally and an associate of Hitler, living in Germany from 1941 until the war’s end — and receiving funding from the Nazi government.
The Mufti also led the lethal 1936-1939 Arab Revolt, in which at least 400 Jews were murdered.
Now the Palestinian Authority (PA) has built and named a public hall after Al-Husseini — and none other than PA leader Mahmoud Abbas himself instructed PA officials about the naming, thereby making a public statement about which historical values the PA chooses to uphold.
When laying the building’s cornerstone, PA officials stressed that the naming of the hall is “out of loyalty to the great figures of our people”:
Text on sign: “Under the auspices of His Honor President
Mahmoud Abbas, may Allah protect him
President of the State of Palestine
His Honor Jericho and Jordan Valley District Governor Dr. Hussein Hamayel
And His Honor Jericho Mayor Mr. Abd Al-Karim Sidr
laid the cornerstone for the Mufti Haj Amin Al-Husseini Hall”
Under the auspices of [PA] President Mahmoud Abbas, yesterday, Sunday, [Feb. 15, 2026,] Jericho and Jordan Valley District Governor Hussein Hamayel and Jericho Mayor Abd Al-Karim Sidr laid the cornerstone for the Mufti Haj Amin Al-Husseini Multi-Purpose Hall …District Governor Hamayel emphasized that the laying of the cornerstone was done out of loyalty to the great figures of our people, and according to direct instructions from President [Abbas] regarding the need to commemorate the memory of the leaders and fighters. [emphasis added]
[Official PA daily Al-Hayat Al-Jadida, Feb. 16, 2026]
Deciding to put a specific person’s name on a public building is a deliberate statement of values. By elevating an individual like Nazi ally Al-Husseini, Abbas and the PA aren’t just labeling a hall — they are officially endorsing Al-Husseini as a hero for the entire community.
Haj Amin Al-Husseini was also featured at a PA event held under the auspices of PA Prime Minister Muhammad Mustafa, with numerous PA and Fatah officials in attendance, during the marking of the 150th anniversary of the private, coeducational Catholic school Collège des Frères in Jerusalem.
On a huge screen, organizers displayed an image of Al-Husseini. Al-Husseini was on Yugoslavia’s list of wanted war criminals, and was responsible for a Muslim SS division that murdered thousands of Serbs and Croats. When the Nazis offered to free some Jewish children, Al-Husseini fought against their release, and as a result, 5,000 children were sent to the gas chambers.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this story first appeared.
Uncategorized
I First Experienced Antisemitism at Six Years Old; But We Must Never Let Hate Win
An Oxford student is seen chanting hateful slogans at Jews, during a pro-Palestinian march in central London, an incident captured on viral video that has drawn widespread condemnation. Photo: Screenshot
When I was six years old, my father founded Carmel College, and moved the family into the English countryside west of London. My father’s school initially only took pupils of a certain age. So, I was sent to a local Church of England village school with one teacher, located just outside the Carmel estate.
For the first time, I became aware of Christian antagonism when I was surrounded by other pupils, bullied, and told that I had killed Jesus. Even at six-years old, I had a mind of my own, and told off the other children. The teacher was furious, got in touch with my father, and insisted that he remove me from the school. Instead, he arranged for home schooling until I was able to join Carmel College.
Several years later, during school holidays, I would walk the three miles from the school to Wallingford, the nearest town, with enough pocket money to buy a ticket to the local cinema. When I got there, the manager told me that the price had gone up, and I didn’t have enough money to get in. I replied that I thought this was unfair and that as I had walked all this way, perhaps he could make an exception. But he replied that since I was a Jew, I should know all about money, because that’s all that mattered to Jews. It was another incident that reinforced my awareness that we were different and not very popular.
A few years later, when I was old enough to play on the school soccer team, we often went to play against non-Jewish schools. In almost every case, either our opponents or the local spectators would abuse us for being Jewish and often played rough either to test us or to express their antagonism. When I mentioned this to my father his response, surprisingly, was simply to tell us to repay them in kind.
The first debate I participated in at Cambridge University in the Union was on the biased subject of whether the Jews had any right to “take” the state of “Palestine” from the Arabs. I argued our case strongly and we won the vote. In those days, the voices of those who supported Israel’s right to exist were strong enough to win the argument.
I was always aware of anti-Jewish sentiment. But it was mainly low key, and I could hardly say that I suffered. Anyway, I had sufficient confidence in my Jewish identity not to let it get to me.
Later I became a rabbi in London and I accepted Chief Rabbi Jakobovitz’s invitation to become responsible in his cabinet for interfaith relations. For a few years I devoted myself to establishing good relations with the various Christian denominations and with Muslims, who at that stage were still relatively new to England and were grateful for the support and encouragement we gave them.
I enjoyed these interactions and conferences and the friendships, some of which I have to this day. But I soon became aware that the interfaith world comprised a small layer of intelligent, sensitive good men and women of all faiths. Although they got on well with each other, they seemed to have little impact on the vast majority of the members of their different religions who were still mired in prejudice and so I withdrew.
I mentioned all these little things because I am conscious of the fact that these small little things affected my sense of alienation, although I was also aware of how wonderful and rewarding the small acts of friendship and warmth were.
Many of our children will experience much more alienation than we had to. We have to fight more prejudice and one-sided information today, and indeed, there are many Jews who prefer joining our enemies. Despite everything, we must encourage good relations with other human beings — many of whom also fight against prejudice and discrimination. Little things can have a huge impact, both ways.
The author is a writer and rabbi based in New York.