For many years I believed that I was a good educator. Students, alumni, and parents told me so. I was mostly effective at exciting my students to learn, drawing them in, and teaching them content and skills they remembered for a long time. Students thought that I was fair and sensitive and really committed to their success. Hey, I even learned how to admit my mistakes and learn from them.

And then I got married and started raising children.

It is one of the oldest literary collections ever written and still very much in circulation. Public readings (and celebrations) of its text are practiced in nearly every synagogue in the world in a regular, fixed cycle. It has been analyzed and studied by religious luminaries, academic scholars, and lay people, and has been studied and taught more times than we can count, with hundreds if not thousands of published commentaries. It plays a central role in all of our lives. One would think that by now we would have a pretty clear idea of what content from Tanakh should be taught and how it should be approached pedagogically at various age levels. And yet, a mountain of anecdotal evidence reveals that there is a huge range in what is taught, why it is taught, and how it is taught.

Much of the discussions we find about teaching Humash focus on the narrative portions—Genesis, the story of the Exodus, the wanderings in the wilderness. To a large extent that makes sense, as they provide students with their origin stories—so critical for building the foundations of identity—and are inherently interesting, as stories tend to be. That being said, there is another half of the Torah, whose nature is primarily legal. While some skip it intentionally or somehow “don’t get around to it,” for others it is no less important to teach, even though the content often doesn’t lend itself easily to grab and hold the students’ attention. As with any teaching, we must first identify what we want to achieve before we can think about how we want to do it.

When we published our issue on antisemitism two years ago, some thought that we were being alarmist. In retrospect, it seems like the antisemitic sentiments we were sensing were just the tip of the iceberg. The surge of Jew-hatred in the United States and abroad, from college campuses to workplaces to the streets of New York, Paris, London, Sydney, and so many more places, leaves us reeling with questions. How did we get to a place where the presidents of Harvard, Penn, and MIT speaking to a congressional committee could not say unequivocally that calling for the genocide of the Jews is considered harassment and violates campus rules?