Faith Without Dogma: A Developmental Approach to Jewish Spiritual Education
Nili Isenberg is the Judaic Studies Curriculum Coordinator at Pressman Academy (Los Angeles), where she has served on the faculty since 2009. Prior to Pressman she worked in museum education. She has a B.A. in Art History and Religion from Boston University, an M.A. in Art History from Johns Hopkins, and an M.A. in Teaching from American Jewish University.
Morah Elana gathers her students on the carpet in the morning. Each student sits in their place, though a few still squirm restlessly. But the routine begins, as the teacher and students recite together with the hand motions:
I know that You are here
You made me strong
I have nothing to fear
I am loved
Morah Elana reminds students to put this feeling in their pockets and touch it during the day if they need it. This is how second graders in our school begin their day.
From the earliest grades, our students are introduced to a variety of role models while being part of a diverse community of peers, families, teachers, and administrators. Even though the school is affiliated with a synagogue and has its own school Rabbi, on a daily basis, students are exposed to the attitudes, beliefs, and practices of many members of the community, especially their classroom teachers. In the faculty handbook, we read that, “Staff members model and promote personal behavior that exemplifies the school’s mission and core values (self-knowledge, learning, menschlichkeit, living a Jewish life, leaving the world better than you found it, and community).” Our faculty uphold these guidelines while also taking different approaches to educating for faith. A closer look at the beliefs and practices of several key staff members helps illustrate this eclectic experience that enriches the lives of our students and promotes our values beyond that which might be achieved by an authoritarian statement of dogma.
Presence, Safety, and Love
In second grade, Morah Elana Miro teaches with songs and stories. Her students sing Psalm 121 in Hebrew with passion and understand that the words mean, “I lift my eyes to the mountains, from where comes my help? My help comes from God.” Another popular song in the class is “HaMalakh Hagoel Oti” which assures children that they are protected and blessed. In Morah Elana students see a model of faith and acceptance. She acknowledges that everything is not always perfect, but we look for the everyday small miracles in life. We find them in the warm smell of challot baking for Shabbat, in the beauty of flowers and a fresh white cloth on the table, in the singing of peaceful melodies, and in the taste of a sweet cake for dessert. Elana speaks about helping her students develop a sensitivity to faith by exposing them to the beauty of tradition at school, which she considers her own “home away from home.” She hopes that the environment she creates will help students feel calm and safe, even when events in life may be out of their control. She tells a story about a driver and passenger. The passenger wants the driver to change his route, but the driver insists on driving along his own route at his own pace. In the analogy, we are the passengers, and God is in charge. We can only control how we respond to the events in our lives. Elana wants to help her students choose how they respond to the events in their lives with a foundation of inner strength and hope.
Relationship and Creativity
In Cantor Ken Cohen’s Judaics classes in fourth grade, students gain confidence in their own ability to ask questions and explore our texts and traditions with creativity and personal connection. He believes that questioning is an act of faith. He incorporates art, poetry, theater, and music into his classes, allowing students to imagine themselves as a part of the story. In the classroom and in all his interactions with students, he models how to stay open, how to listen, how to wrestle, and how to remain in relationship because he believes that faith grows in the presence of trusted others. He speaks of “the moment when a child stops merely performing Judaism and begins to live it from within.” He observes that what was once done because it was asked or expected becomes something inward, chosen, and deeply felt in his students during their time in his classroom.
Hevruta (paired learning) is an essential tool for this kind of learning in his class. In hevruta, students learn that meaning is not constructed alone. They practice listening deeply, speaking honestly, challenging gently, and expanding one another’s understanding. They come to see that truth is not always found in quick answers, but often in the back-and-forth of sincere engagement. Cantor Ken points out that faith, too, is shaped in this way. He believes that faith is not a fixed destination or a set of proofs to memorize, but a practice of returning, again and again, to relationship: with text, with one another, with community, and with the Divine. Students begin to see that faith does not depend on constant certainty. It depends on remaining available to the encounter. As they wonder, notice, and make meaning, they also discover themselves as sacred beings in relationship with something larger than themselves.
He often asks students what they hope for, what they are grateful for, or what they want God to know. A student once responded, “Sometimes I don’t believe, but in the end I always believe, because I notice all the good things God did for me.” Cantor Ken points out that this response is not rehearsed. Rather, it is honest theology in the language of a child beginning to notice the movement between doubt, gratitude, and trust.
Developing a Personal Voice
Students continue this journey of learning in Dr. Julie Schimmel’s fifth grade Judaics classes. Just recently, she was presented with a theological question from a student: “Do you believe that God created the world?” At that moment, she responded honestly: “Yes, I do believe that God created the world.” At the same time, she also noted that others in the classroom may have wanted to share their different beliefs. From the looks on the faces of her students, she could tell that this was just the beginning of what could potentially be a much longer conversation.
Dr. Julie believes that this is what makes her work so interesting and exciting. Each student is a different and unique soul, and it is the job of the educator to give them opportunities to ruminate, to challenge themselves, and to grow. The role of the teacher is not to teach them what to believe, but rather to give them the opportunity to think about the important issues in a safe and comfortable environment where everyone (sometimes even the teacher!) can share. It is a place where they can explore and ultimately share what they do believe. This is a way for them to learn how to express themselves, and hopefully to become closer to God.
When she taught third grade, she had a mailbox for God questions that was full every week. She brought this practice with her when her teaching moved to fifth grade, but found that it was empty every week, and understood that students in different grade levelsּ need different means of expressing themselves, so for her fifth grade class she made journaling a regular practice in her classroom. Each time students complete their journaling, some ask, “When will we do this again?” They appreciate the private time to connect with their thoughts and hopefully with God.
Ambivalence and Resilience
Students develop their use of hevruta and journaling skills through the middle school years. I have encountered many students who continue to believe that “Hashem is always here to help me, no matter what!” And while it is comforting that students have this strong foundation of faith, I wonder whether students realize that ambivalence toward God and God’s ways in the world is actually a deep characteristic of our Jewish tradition.
In my eighth grade Tanakh class, students study the texts read on the holidays, where students can explore these issues in greater depth. Starting with the Book of Jonah, read on Yom Kippur, they encounter a prophet who questions God’s justice in the world. Then, they discover the angst-ridden philosophy of Kohelet, read on Sukkot, who also wonders why the righteous suffer and the wicked prevail. Next, in preparing for Purim, students learn about the concept of hester panim (God’s face is sometimes hidden) and wonder why God’s name is not even mentioned in the Scroll of Esther. Finally, the class rounds out the year with Eikha (Lamentations), read on Tisha B’Av, where the author laments the destruction of the Temple and the connection with God, but maintains hope for repentance and a return to the days of old. In studying these deeply theological books, students have an opportunity to reflect on their own faith at these difficult times we are living through today. Students have had the opportunity to ask such questions as: Why doesn’t God make miracles in our times? Will God punish Hamas and return our hostages? Will Mashiach come and rebuild the Temple?
Some educators may fear that introducing this kind of doubt will break a child’s faith. However, at this age this transition is not only healthy but necessary in order to fortify faith in an intellectually honest way. When I was a student in a Jewish school (many years ago) I remember a Rabbi who stated that sometimes he believes in God and sometimes he doesn’t. My parents were irate, and I recall wondering at the time why they were so upset; it just seemed natural to express doubt. That same appreciation of doubt, which I now understand is supported in our sources, informs my approach to my students.
I also teach about the terrible events of the Holocaust. When learning about the Holocaust, it is easy to despair, yet I often find that these lessons are sometimes the most impactful. When our eighth grade students recently met with a Holocaust survivor, they heard about the deaths of her father, mother, and sister in the ghettos and concentration camps of Europe. And yet, they also learned about her good friend, whom she met in Auschwitz, who survived the war with her and lived to an old age with her in Los Angeles. Sadly, her friend had recently passed, and the elderly survivor repeated several times, “I will see her soon.” Nothing could compare to hearing this statement from her lips—her faith inspired our students to consider theirs.
Community Support
Our Rav Beit Sefer, Rabbi Tureff, thinks a lot about how to bring this kind of faith to our entire community. He is an anchor who ties all the parts together, who regularly meets one-on-one with students as well as with both parents—and even teachers—as they experience trials and tribulations. Rabbi Tureff approaches his conversations with sensitivity to the diverse backgrounds of members of our community, and with awareness of his role in setting the tone for how teachers and parents then interact with their students and children through difficult times. He knows that people approach him specifically because they want spiritual guidance. During these meetings, he focuses on God’s role and shares his theological understanding of how God actively watches over each individual according to their unique souls, while acknowledging that there is no black-and-white policy in the school about our hashkafa (religious perspectives). He finds that these conversations bring comfort and remind people in the darkest times that they are loved.
In working with the earliest grades all the way to the families and staff, we find that diverse ways of teaching for faith can make connections that help our community confront difficult times and raise difficult questions while also feeling safe and loved. We believe that faith education isn’t just one “subject” with discrete knowledge but a multi-modal approach that develops as the child’s cognitive and emotional capacities grow. Whether singing passionately and listening to uplifting stories in second grade, working in hevruta and creating personal art in fourth grade, journaling and reflecting quietly in fifth grade, wrestling with texts and listening to a Holocaust survivor in eighth grade, or meeting one-on-one with the Rav Beit Sefer at any age, each experience provides new role models, tools, and perspectives on the journey of faith.
Nili Isenberg is the Judaic Studies Curriculum Coordinator at Pressman Academy (Los Angeles), where she has served on the faculty since 2009. Prior to Pressman she worked in museum education. She has a B.A. in Art History and Religion from Boston University, an M.A. in Art History from Johns Hopkins, and an M.A. in Teaching from American Jewish University.
From The Editor: Fall 2026
For part of the time that I was studying for my semikha I had a roommate whom I admired for his faith. It was pure, simple, genuine, rock solid. My friend never seemed to question, to waver. I sometimes challenged him, but he was unfazed. I often wished that some of that would rub off on me. Nope. He remained steadfast; I remained struggling.
The Courage to Ask
An eleventh grader this year wrote about her faith in the wake of October 7th:
In the weeks following…, I found it challenging to believe in a G-d that could allow such horrors to be done to humans, especially His chosen people…. I found myself wondering, “How could a merciful G-d put us in this world knowing the immense suffering that would ensue?” He is supposed to be looking out for us and protecting us…Eventually, my doubts started spreading into other areas of my life. Brachot lost their meaning, teffilot seemed to have lost their power, and motivation for some mitzvot completely disappeared. My day-to-day life lost its “light” without the meaning or motivation to guide me through my days.
Creating the Conditions for Faith: Emunah as Encounter, Not Instruction
Every summer my paternal grandmother, a devout Orthodox Jew from the Bronx, took me on holiday to the beaches of Far Rockaway. On Shabbat morning we would stroll just two blocks from our breezy apartment to the synagogue steps—though it was less a walk than a journey to another place and time. Modeled after the grand edifices of Europe, the sanctuary was physically stunning: soaring, cathedral-like ceilings, colorful stained-glass windows, the women’s balcony above, the men’s section below. The service was scheduled to begin at nine, but on this Shabbat we arrived a full hour early. Sitting together in the silence, alone in the large empty hall, I asked her why we had come so soon.
In God We Trust: Teaching Bitahon
In the immediate wake of October 7, 2023, the instinct of many Jewish educators worldwide was clear: we needed to teach hope. Many of us clung to the timeless words of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: “It is not too much to say that Jews kept hope alive, and hope kept the Jewish people alive.” Hope was our life-support system and one of the messages of every piece of Torah I subsequently taught.
What I Do Matters: Educating for Avodat Hashem
When Jewish educators in the modern West discuss “educating for faith,” we may unconsciously import a framework that does not quite fit our tradition. The dominant model in the broader cultural conversation, shaped largely by Protestantism, understands religious faith primarily as a personal relationship with the Divine: belief in God’s existence and love, and the cultivation of trust in and intimacy with a personal God. This is a coherent and meaningful vision, and in fact, we have much to learn from our Protestant colleagues. But this is not the most distinctively Jewish one.
From “What” to “So What”: Educating for Emunah Through Culture, Curriculum, Relationships, and Questions
We begin with a firm belief that each student has a neshamah—a soul, a divine spark—and with it an inherent capacity for emunah, or faith. Our task is not to try to create something new for them. It is to awaken and strengthen that inheritance, to reveal what is theirs already and to help students make it personally their own.
For us, the goal of Jewish education is to have Jewish identity expressed in thought and action. That identity is grounded in an awareness of God (Hashem), a personal relationship with God, and responsibility toward other people. This is not one objective among many; it is the mission of our school.
The Prophet as Rebel: Finding Faith in the Emotional-Psychological Classroom
I stepped into the classroom mid-year as both the homeroom and Tanakh teacher for a group of six 9th graders at an Israeli emotional-psychological school. These were students for whom the traditional educational system had often been a site of failure rather than growth. Most struggled with Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD) or had other neurodivergent challenges. Most were “talkers”—highly intelligent, deeply critical of systems, and, with one exception, entirely non-religious.
The Hidden Curriculum of Faith: How School Culture Shapes Religious Development
A student walks out of twelve years of intensive Judaic studies. She has learned Humash with Rashi, sat through years of Talmud, and taken courses in Jewish thought. But ask her, some years later, what shaped her relationship with Torah and with God, and the answer does not usually start with a class. Instead, it starts with the memory of a teacher who treated her with care during a hard stretch, an administrator whose handling of a particularly charged moment stood out, or the way that faculty members handled disagreements and differences of opinion amongst themselves and with students.
Faith in the Future: What Jewish School Leadership Has Taught Me About Emunah
It is often said that Judaism is a religion of deed, not creed. In Jewish day schools, that distinction is often taken one step further. Schools teach texts, practices, language, and history, but often hesitate to name faith as an educational goal. In pluralistic settings in particular, educators are wary of imposing theology or defining belief.
Faith and Doubt: Lessons from a Modern Orthodox Scholars Program
Three years ago, I launched what is now the Sloan Scholars Program, an enrichment program rooted in our Modern Orthodox mission to integrate rigorous Torah study with the best of worldly knowledge. Through seminars, readings, guest speakers, cultural outings, and independent research, students explore enduring questions at the intersection of Torah and modernity. Over time, however, I noticed that many of the questions students most wanted to investigate were not merely intellectual; they were existential. Students asked why Jewish traditions developed as they did, how halakha should respond to contemporary challenges, and, perhaps most fundamentally, how a Modern Orthodox Jew should live in a complex modern world.
It Takes a Community
In my role as board president, and as a parent of both graduates and current students, I frequently receive feedback from parents, staff, and administrators about the state of the school. Some of the most impassioned conversations revolve around the question of how schools can help students deepen their faith. Few, however, are able to articulate precisely what this means. For some, faith grounds and manifests itself in resilience. For others, it is a spiritual attachment expressed through greater religious observance, prayer, or ritual practice. Faced with this ambiguity, schools often attempt a little of everything. They expand informal programming, encourage visible religious behavior, and offer courses in Jewish philosophy. Yet these well-intentioned efforts are often premised on the assumption that faith is a discrete educational outcome.
Assessing Faith: The Gift We Owe Our Students
Faith is one example of a “non-testable” priority that Jewish day schools have. In a recent article for 18Forty, Hillel Rapp identifies inspiration as one of the four pillars of Jewish high school. If educating for inspiration, or faith, is as important as academic learning, it is actually essential for schools to find some way to assess and report on the progress, at the time that it’s happening. Otherwise, we run the risk of telling students that this is a core part of our purpose, while showing them that we actually only care about math and science. To be sure, I am not suggesting that we give students a grade on faith. Instead, we need to get back to the core of the purpose of assessment and then use that information to set goals for future growth.
Educating for Faith Through the Arts
When I learned to paint, my father told me to pay attention to light and shadows, there is something spiritual, otherworldly, but also recognizable, in captured light. Like in Rembrandt. Maybe he had read once that Rav Kook suggested that Rembrandt was blessed with a vision of the holy light secreted away at creation.
I never asked him, as he died when I was 14 and most of my questions came later. I wanted to believe in a rational world, yet met a world that didn’t make sense but allowed us to trust in ourselves and our own rationality. Where did God and religion fit in there? At moments in my young adulthood when faith seemed far, I would sometimes find glimmers of it in visual aesthetic experiences; the light of the Shabbat candles and the moments when the sun slips away.
Doubt as a Catalyst for Faith
Jewish day schools today educate students in a cultural environment shaped by distraction, rapid information flow, and exposure to competing value systems. For many students, religious language and practice can feel inherited rather than chosen, and belief can appear fragile or performative. In this context, the central challenge for Jewish education is not simply how to transmit faith, but how to cultivate a form of faith that is resilient, reflective, and capable of growth.
I submit that faith in K-12 Jewish education does not develop primarily through doctrinal instruction or rote assent. Instead, it emerges through lived experience, responsibility, and structured encounters with doubt. Rather than treating doubt as a threat, Jewish education can frame it as a catalyst for deeper commitment.
Personal Pathways to Emunah for a Diverse Student Body
AllIssuesJournalCreditsLinoy Even-Kesef is a Judaic Studies and Hebrew educator at Oakland Hebrew Day School (California). She is also engaged in research and writing on Jewish education, Hebrew language instruction, spirituality, and values-based learning. Dr....
Creating Space for Lifelong Conversations, Difficult Questions and Spiritual Growth is Jewish Education
Introduction Jewish educators need to make a radical shift in how we teach both children and adults about the Divine. Educators must be empowered to discuss God openly and often, ensuring that students’ spiritual identities evolve alongside their intellectual development. I learned about this from speaking to my congregants—highly intelligent professors and professionals—yet most had not revisited their concepts of the Divine since their Benai Mitzvah at age 13. This raised critical pedagogical and spiritual questions for me. How do individuals become spiritually stuck? How do we facilitate spiritual growth? How do people become spiritually stagnant? How do we as Jewish educators prevent our current Benai Mitzvah from becoming not only stuck in their 13-year-old theology, but also
And Both are True: Mimicry and Authenticity in Educating for Faith
Every teacher wants to make a difference in their students’ lives, and educating for faith involves relationship building. Jewish faith is founded on an individual’s relationship with God, the Land of Israel, Torah, and the Jewish People. Teachers who want to help students build their faith need to build relationships with their students which support, but do not supplant, the students’ relationships with the foundations of Jewish faith. Similar to the approach used to guide skill development in academic, behavioral, and social-emotional learning, where modeling, direct instruction, or coaching techniques may be effective, the teacher needs to step aside at the appropriate juncture to encourage independence. Emulation of role models can be a useful first stage, but mimicry that does not advance beyond imitation may impede authentic religious growth and development.
Developing Wholeheartedness
In the introduction to his 11th century book Duties of the Heart, R. Bahya Ibn Pakuda poses a question that Jewish educators continue to struggle with today. Bahya asks why he cannot find any source in rabbinic texts that describes the inner life of the Jew. He knows there are mitzvot to learn and perform, he knows that there are intellectual concepts to attain and reason with but where are, what he calls, “The Duties of the Heart?” The book that he writes, one of the most popular Jewish books for 1000 years, starts to enumerate these Duties and weighs them alongside the mitzvot and de’ot, what he identifies as the “Duties of the Limbs.”
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